Page 40 of Blood Heir

“You are ten minutes late. Why?” Her voice cuts through the space like a blade.

I keep my expression neutral. “I apologize, Aunt. We had a bit of a hitch.”

Vittoria shifts her gaze downward, finally acknowledging Fioretta.

But Fioretta doesn’t drop her eyes. She holds Vittoria’s stare, unblinking.

The corner of Vittoria’s mouth twitches ever so slightly in disapproval, but she turns on her heel without comment.

We follow her through the corridor, down to her private meeting room. Cassian takes position behind us like a stone sentinel.

We sit. The heavy air between us pulls tight.

Vittoria folds her hands over her lap, finally addressing Fioretta directly. “I hear you’re recovering well.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Fioretta’s voice doesn’t waver. Confident.

Vittoria narrows her eyes, trying to read deeper. “I learned you have no memory.”

Fioretta opens her mouth to respond. “Well, ye—”

“It’s a good thing,” Vittoria cuts in sharply, “that way, we can all forget the disgraceful chaos you caused.”

Fioretta glances at me briefly, but I step in before she can speak. “We have it all under control, Aunt.” My voice stays firm. Controlled.

Vittoria’s tone sharpens. “Please do. I personally think you should be held accountable for—”

“I need to pee.”

The words come out of Fioretta’s mouth like she’s announcing the weather.

Vittoria’s mouth opens slightly, her brows lifting as though she misheard. “Pardon?”

Fioretta rises, voice smooth, face calm. “I said, I want to pee. There’s pee in my bladder. I need to let it out. Or would you prefer I relieve myself right here? Lovely carpets you’ve got.”

Vittoria stiffens, her entire face hardening.

Fioretta flashes a sweet smile, her tone almost playful. “Never mind. I’ll find the bathroom myself—or maybe I’ll just water your garden. It is quite beautiful.”

She turns toward the door, her hips swaying slightly with every step.

Cassian moves instinctively to follow, but she throws him a glance over her shoulder, smirking. “At ease, handsome. I’ll find my way.”

The door slams behind her with a final echo that leaves the room crackling with tension.

Vittoria’s face flushes, her lips trembling with barely-contained rage.

“How dare she?” she hisses, her voice breaking with disbelief. “Who is this girl? Are you certain she is Fioretta?”

I feel my throat tighten, but I keep my expression unreadable, locking my hands together, as though holding back every emotion boiling under the surface.

If only she knew how much this version of Fioretta unsettles me. And how much she consumes me.

Vittoria’s face is stiff with fury, but I steady my voice, masking the corner of my lip that threatens to curl upward.

“She’s on medication,” I say calmly, folding my hands in my lap. “It makes her act…odd. Disoriented.”

Vittoria narrows her eyes, studying me as if trying to peel back my skin. “So she doesn’t know what happened that day?”

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