The simultaneous exclamations of "WTF!" from Hope and Benny were a stark contrast to the quiet elegance of the hospital room. Their youthful exuberance seemed utterly out of place amidst the sterile surroundings and the gravity of the situation.
Rosemary, however, remained unperturbed. She observed her daughter's friends with a gentle smile, though a flicker of concern crossed her face as she noted Anastasia's detached demeanor. Despite the overwhelming circumstances, Anastasia seemed strangely composed, almost indifferent to the momentous revelation that she was part of the Marcani family.
"Darling, you will be discharged," Rosemary said softly, her voice laced with a warmth that felt both comforting and unsettling.
Anastasia offered a small, polite smile in return and nodded once again.
The transition from the sterile confines of the hospital to the breathtaking grandeur of the Marcani estate was jarring, to say the least. The luxurious car glided effortlessly along winding roads, ascending into the mountains until it arrived at a sprawling property that defied description. It wasn't merely a mansion; it was a palace – a sprawling complex of interconnected buildings crafted from marble and stone, surrounded by meticulously manicured gardens and cascading waterfalls. The sheer scale of it was overwhelming, a testament to the Marcani family's immense wealth and power.
Anastasia gazed out the window, her violet eyes scanning the panoramic vista with a detached curiosity. The air was crisp and clean, scented with the fragrance of pine trees and wildflowers. It was a world away from the bustling streets of Lyon City, a secluded sanctuary hidden amongst the peaks. But you can see the city from blew the mountain it was beautiful.
As the car pulled up to the main entrance, flanked by imposing wroughtiron gates and guarded by sternfaced security personnel, Maddox turned to Anastasia with a proud smile.
"Sister, this is one of our homes," he announced, gesturing expansively at the sprawling estate.
"And we own this entire mountain."
His words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the immense power and influence that now enveloped her. Anastasia absorbed the information without a visible reaction, her expression remaining impassive. She had encountered vast estates and opulent displays of wealth before, but there was something different about this place – a palpable sense of history, of tradition, and of unwavering authority. It was clear that this wasn't just a home; it was a fortress, a symbol of the Marcani family's enduring legacy.
The sheer weight of Maddox's words settled upon Anastasia, a silent acknowledgment of the reality she now faced. To own an entire mountain – it was an audacious claim, a blatant display of power that would be the envy of nations. It underscored the immense scale of the world she had stumbled into, a world of privilege, intrigue, and potential danger.
She stepped out of the car, her movements deliberate and controlled. The crisp mountain air filled her lungs, invigorating her senses. She allowed herself a brief moment to appreciate the beauty of her surroundings – the towering peaks, the lush greenery, the breathtaking panorama that stretched out before her. But her appreciation was tempered by a growing sense of unease.
This wasn't just about wealth or power; it was about responsibility.
Butler William, a man whose age was etched into the lines of his face and the dignified posture of his bearing, bowed deeply before Lady Rosemary. His eyes, however, widened slightly as they focused on Anastasia. A flicker of recognition crossed his features – a memory resurfacing from the depths of his long service to the Marcani family.
"Lady Rosemary, this…" he began, then paused, momentarily taken aback by the sight of Anastasia.
"This is my missing daughter Anastasia," Rosemary confirmed gently, her voice filled with a quiet joy.
Butler William's expression softened into one of profound reverence.
"The little princess! I remember when you were born, Lady Rosemary. You were so beautiful! The entire household rejoiced at your arrival." He bowed again, this time directing his gaze towards Anastasia.
"Welcome home, Miss Anastasia."
"I remember I called you Santa all the time because that became my favorite holiday when I got a a pony," Anastasia said. Rosemary smiled so brightly. She dragged her daughter inside the beautiful mansion they were many servants.
"I called your siblings, and father, your father will be returning, your twin brother goes to one of the renowned high schools in Lyon City, and we adopted two daughters same age as you and your twin brother, one is Lily the other is Lucy both twins and only a month older then you and your twin brother, and we have a little girl who is only six years old."
The moment Rosemary said that a six year old wearing a pink dress eyes landed on Anastasia and she rushed to her mother.
"Mama who…"
"Your sister. Anastasia this is Angel."
"Angel, beautiful name you like dolls?" Anastasia asked.
Angel nodded her head.
Anastasia's attention was immediately drawn to Angel's animated description of her dolls. The genuine excitement in the little girl's voice was infectious, and she found herself smiling – a rare and genuine expression that hadn't graced her face in centuries. It was surprisingly easy to slip into the role of a caring older sister, to indulge in the simple pleasures of childhood.
But Angel's next words struck a discordant note, shattering the fragile sense of normalcy that had begun to emerge.
"Sister, sister do you know this is the doll you once had when you were so small! Mama said when I was born I cried when I didn't hold onto this stuffed doll," Angel exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder.
Anastasia froze, her hand instinctively tightening around the doll.
Angel's enthusiasm was infectious, and Anastasia found herself genuinely enjoying the tour of her little sister's room. The vibrant colors, the neatly arranged dolls, the sheer joy radiating from Angel – it was a stark contrast to the austere and disciplined environment she had known for most of her existence.
The warmth of familial connection was a novel sensation, a comforting balm to her weary soul. This was what it felt like to have a family – to be surrounded by love, laughter, and unconditional acceptance. It was…good. A surprisingly pleasant feeling that she hadn't realized she had been missing. Seven brothers, four sisters a massive family, yes but one she found herself surprisingly receptive to.
Rosemary's gentle voice interrupted her thoughts as she entered Angel's room.
"Anastasia come, mummy wants to show you your own room!"
Rosemary's hand felt surprisingly warm and comforting as she led Anastasia down a long, opulent hallway. The walls were adorned with priceless artwork, and the floors were covered in plush carpets that muffled their footsteps. It was a world of unimaginable luxury, a testament to the Marcani family's vast wealth and influence.
"All our kids have their own floor," Rosemary explained, her voice filled with pride.
"This floor is all yours. This room is yours."
Anastasia followed Rosemary into a sprawling suite that took her breath away. It was more than just a bedroom; it was a private sanctuary – a luxurious haven filled with exquisite furnishings, stateoftheart technology, and an array of amenities that catered to every conceivable desire. A massive fourposter bed dominated the center of the room, draped in silk and velvet fabrics.