The shift in Sean's focus was absolute. The years of relentless searching, the countless dead ends and frustrating setbacks, were now relegated to the past. His energy, his resources, his very being were now dedicated to safeguarding Anastasia. It was a promise he had made to himself long ago, a silent vow whispered into the darkness during countless sleepless nights.
He knew the world held dangers she couldn't possibly comprehend, and that her sudden return would undoubtedly attract unwanted attention. He would be her shield, her watchful guardian, always anticipating threats and ready to defend her with unwavering resolve.
Downstairs, the atmosphere was subtly charged with tension. Lily and Lucy, both seventeen years old and adopted into the Marcani family a few years prior, observed Anastasia from across the lavishly decorated living room.
Lily's gaze was laced with disdain, her expression tight with resentment.
Lily's gaze was laced with disdain, her expression tight with resentment. She had overheard snippets of conversations, whispers about the "long lost daughter" and the upheaval it would cause within the family dynamic. The news of Anastasia's return hadn't filled her with excitement; it had ignited a simmering jealousy. She felt that Anastasia's arrival threatened her place in the family, a position she had carefully cultivated over years of strategic maneuvering.
Lucy, in stark contrast, maintained a calm and composed demeanor. While she acknowledged Lily's discomfort, she felt a genuine sense of curiosity and anticipation about meeting this new sister. She'd always been more empathetic than her sister, more inclined to see the good in others.
"Lily; don't you dare harm her," Lucy said, her voice firm despite its gentle tone.
Lucy's keen observation of her sister's manipulative tendencies was a constant source of frustration. Lily's talent for portraying herself as a victim was a wellhoned skill, one she used to manipulate situations and garner sympathy. But Lucy had learned to see through the facade, recognizing the calculated nature of her sister's actions. And she wouldn't stand idly by while Lily targeted Anastasia.
"Whatever, so what if she returned?" Lily retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She crossed her arms, her expression a deliberate display of indifference.
"She probably thinks she's entitled to special treatment now, doesn't she? A longlost princess or something." Her words were laced with thinly veiled contempt, aimed at undermining Anastasia before she even had a chance to settle in. The underlying message was clear: You don't belong here.
Lucy, however, was far more discerning. She possessed a sharp intellect and a keen eye for detail, hidden beneath a veneer of quiet composure. While Lily flaunted her superficial charm and manipulative tactics, Lucy quietly cultivated a range of skills and talents, always observing, always analyzing. She wanted to see if this new sister was worthy of the Marcani family's protection, if she possessed the strength and resilience to navigate the complex world they inhabited.
"Hello, my name is Lucy," she offered with a polite smile, extending her hand in a gesture of welcome.
Anastasia looked up from her book, her expression remaining largely emotionless for a long moment before she offered a brief nod in response.
"Anastasia." Her voice was soft and measured, betraying little emotion.
"It seems like you were raised in America with that American accent,"
Lily continued her interrogation, a smug smirk playing on her lips.
"Sister Anastasia, do you even know French?" she pressed, her tone laced with a challenge.
"Given that this is France, and we are the Marcani family, it's rather…disappointing to hear you speak only English."
She paused, allowing her words to hang in the air, clearly expecting Anastasia to stumble or reveal some perceived weakness. Lily thrived on exposing vulnerabilities; it was a game she played with unsettling regularity. She was subtly testing Anastasia, probing for any sign of insecurity or inadequacy.
Anastasia regarded Lily with a cool detachment, her violet eyes unwavering. She seemed unfazed by the girl's thinly veiled hostility. After a moment of silence, she spoke, her voice calm and controlled.
"French is one of many languages I speak."
The smugness radiating from Lily was almost palpable, a clear indication of her intention to provoke and unsettle. Her interrogation felt less like a genuine inquiry and more like a calculated attack, designed to expose Anastasia's perceived shortcomings. The subtle dig about being "disappointing" to speak only English, given their location and family heritage, was a deliberate attempt to belittle her and establish dominance.
Anastasia's composure, however, remained unbroken. She met Lily's gaze with an unwavering intensity, her violet eyes betraying no hint of emotion. It was as if she were observing Lily from a distance, analyzing her motives without allowing herself to be drawn into the game.
The brief pause before she responded only heightened the tension in the room. Then, her voice cut through the silence with a quiet confidence that sent a ripple of surprise through Lucy.
The living room had transformed into a chaotic yet vibrant scene. Mountains of shopping bags from renowned fashion houses were piled high, a testament to Rosemary and Sean's eagerness to shower Anastasia with gifts. The sheer volume of clothing was almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the austere and practical attire she was accustomed to.
Lily's carefully constructed facade of sweetness strained under the weight of her jealousy. Her smile felt brittle and forced, a desperate attempt to mask the resentment simmering beneath the surface. Lucy, however, saw right through it, rolling her eyes subtly at her sister's transparent act. She couldn't help but be intrigued by Anastasia despite the unsettling emptiness in her eyes, there was a gentle aura surrounding her, an almost ethereal quality that set her apart.
"Mama? Sean?" Anastasia inquired softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she surveyed the extravagant display.
"Baby! You called me mum! These are for you," Rosemary exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with joy. She rushed forward, enveloping Anastasia in a warm embrace. Anastasia stiffened momentarily before relaxing into the hug, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. She glanced at the shopping bags, recognizing the logos of some of the world's most prestigious fashion brands. It was an overwhelming display of wealth and generosity that she found difficult to process.
Lucy, meanwhile, didn't waste a moment. Her fingers flew across her phone screen as she swiftly texted her assistant:
Lucy: I want a thousand clothes for my new sister within an hour.
She added a brief note at the end: And make sure they're all the latest styles.
"Sister Anastasia, let's go and take your things up the stairs," Lucy said gently. Anastasia raised her eyebrows.
Anastasia's reflection in the mirror was a curious paradox. The light green summer dress, while undeniably elegant, seemed almost at odds with the inherent stillness she carried within her. There was a quiet power radiating from her, a subtle intensity that hinted at a depth of experience far beyond her apparent age. Her violet eyes, though seemingly devoid of emotion, held a captivating allure – a blend of coldness and otherworldly beauty that was both intriguing and unsettling. She resembled a dragon goddess, both formidable and ethereal.
Her gaze drifted to the window, her attention drawn to the neighboring house across the manicured lawns. It was a sprawling estate in its own right, mirroring the Marcani mansion in its grandeur and opulence. A sense of quiet curiosity stirred within her – an unfamiliar feeling that she struggled to comprehend. Who lived there? Were they friend or foe?