Zolani Moretti's Point of View
I'm not ungrateful. Am I? I mean, I have everything, luxury and ordinary things. I have things people work for their whole lives, yet I still didn't like my life. Wait, I like my life. I'm not some depressed rich girl, I'm more like Rapunzel trapped in a tower, except I'm trapped in an extremely large estate and minus the dramatic hair.
My brother- Aless- has kept me in here for years. Of course, I've tried sneaking out, but it's impossible with the amount of security. Ever since my parents died, I have never been seen by anyone outside of the walls of the estate. At first, I thought he was just scared of losing me, but now, it's kinda obvious that he doesn't want me to have a social life.
I hate him. I hate him so much.
I sighed and looked at myself in the full-length mirror. I had chestnut hair just
like my brother, but his was darker. My hair ended at my mid-back, little fringes on my forehead, highlighting my green eyes.
I wore a purple gown, a bit puffy, and had little feathers at the arm and hem of it. It was one of my favourites.
I was going to paint today. I have been taking online classes for a few weeks now. I wanted to try nature painting.
I tied my hair in a ponytail and exited my room, my feet carrying me to the garden.
The garden was a vast space filled with rows of trees and shrubs of different kinds, arranged in a maze. At one corner, there was a pavement that led to the other side of the garden, closer to the greenhouse.
My painting material was already there. I sat down. I was going to paint the sky, and the view was perfect. The sky was a mix of dark blue, purple, red, and streaks of light blue as it was the early hours of the morning.
___________________★____________________
The morning sunlight spilled across the estate garden, catching on my canvas in warm, golden streaks. I dipped my brush into the paint carefully, trying to capture the way the sunlight caught in the tulips. This canvas was my third. Not that the last two weren't good, I just wanted Aless to pick the one he liked. Personally, .y current one was my favourite.
"Really, Zola, you're taking forever," a voice said casually, cutting through the quiet. Of all people? What was he even doing here?
"Dante," I said, already annoyed. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," he spoke, leaning against the edge of the stone fence with a smirk.
"Thought the pampered Moretti brat might actually do something today instead of staring at her paints."
The grip on my brush tightened at his words.
Dante Rossi is my brother's one and only friend. I dislike him. He always finds a way to annoy and tease me.
"I'm painting. You don't understand art." I stated.
"Art? Is that what we're calling this?" Dante stepped closer, not bothering to give me space. His eyes danced over it. Then, without warning, he reached for the palette, muttering: "Hmm...no, no, you've got too much blue here. Let me fix it."
"Don't touch it!" I shrieked, lunging forward, and in my rush, my brush slipped. A streak of red paint smeared across the canvas.
"Oh," Dante murmured, feigning innocence, though the smirk on his lips gave him away. "That was...an accident."
My face heated. "An accident? You caused it!" I glared at him, fists clenched.
"Ahh... there it is again, the Moretti brat blaming her mistakes on me." Dante leaned back.
"Enough, Dante, let's go." A firm voice cut through the tension like a blade. I spun around and saw Aless standing at the edge of the maze. "Hey, Ales," I waved at him. I hate him, sure, but he's still my brother.
"Dante is being annoying again, and he ruined my painting." I reported.
Aless' gaze flickered to Dante and then the ruined canvas.
"He's just acting high. He'll paint another for you," Aless responded.
"Paint another? I don't know - ah, don't worry, I'll paint five more." Dante assured, as Aless glared at him.
I stuck my tongue out at Dante as he and Aless walked toward the other side of the estate.
___________________★____________________
3RD PERSON'S POINT OF VIEW
Alessandro's steps were silent, deliberate, and Dante had no choice but to follow. He shot Zolani one last glance as they turned a corner. She was busy glaring at the ruined canvas. Dante rolled his eyes. 'She'll live' he thought, though a small part of him wished she couldn't be quite so perfect at making him feel... something.
He and Alessandro entered the cells. The pair descended down the narrow staircase, the opulence of the estate giving way to cold stone walls. The air smelled faintly of metal and dampness, nothing like the sunlit garden.
Dante's eyes scanned the dim corridor. "Why are we here?" He asked casually, though a hint of curiosity in his voice. Alessandro stopped in front of a heavy steel door, fingers brushing over the lock. "My men caught a spy," he stated simply.
Dante raised an eyebrow. "So...you kept him here? I thought spies were killed immediately?" Alessandro's dark eyes glinted, unbothered.
"This one is different. He knows something we don't."
The lock chimed. The door swung open and a man stirred inside. His eyes fluttered open, catching their silhouettes. He was slim and ragged and clearly hadn't been fed for days.
Dante stepped forward, his tone dropping. Gone was the teasing, casual man in the garden. This Dante was sharp, precise, dangerous. "Speak." He commanded.
The man's lip trembled. Then in a harsh, guttural French, he blurted out a plea. Dante's nose wrinkled. "French?!" Alessandro nodded.
"Can't believe you kept an enemy here." Dante crossed his arms.
"Just translate whatever he says," Alessandro spoke, his tone hard. Dante nodded as he listened to what the prisoner was saying.
"Il vient se venger...et il est prêt à tout pour y-y parvenir. Il la connaît et il fera tout ce qui est en s...son pouvor pour la tuer. Il est d- dangereux! P- prenz...garde! Son- nom- nom...e-est..."
Silence.
The man's eyes went wide and then slumped to the floor, dead. Dante straightened, his face contracting into the perfect mix of sarcasm and disgust. "Wow." he muttered, letting the sarcasm hang for a heartbeat. "At least feed your important guest."
Alessandro ignored his words. "What did he say?" He asked.
"It appears that someone knows about Lani and wants to kill her but we do not know the person's name." Dante stated like he was talking about the weather.
"Pardon?" Aless, who had been leaning against the bars, stood straight.
"Someone knows about Zolani and wants to kill her to get to you." Dante repeated, slower and louder.
"I heard you the first time." Alessandro's gaze lingered on the dead man's body.
After a moment of silence, Alessandro turned around. "Get rid of the body and tighten security around the estate." Alessandro asserted then left.
Dante's lips pressed into a tight line. The weight of the man's words - or rather, the warning left unfinished sank deep. He glanced toward the staircase that Aless just climbed, which led to sunlight, thought of Zola, and felt that unfamiliar pang: protectiveness. But this time, it was sharper, realer.
The game had just begun.