Shadows Of Rebirth

Chapter 20: Mira POV

 The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the air as I stepped into the grand dining room of my father's estate. The contrast between this world and the one I had just left was staggering. No bloodstained hands, no whispered threats in the dark—just polished floors, expensive chandeliers, and the illusion of a perfect family.

I knew better.

 Seated at the head of the long, gleaming table was my father, Edgar Russo, his sharp eyes flicking to me the moment I entered. He was dressed impeccably, as always, his suit crisp, his posture rigid. The newspaper in his hands rustled as he lowered it slightly.

"You're late," he said, his voice even.

 I shrugged, ignoring the tension that always tightened my chest in his presence. "I didn't realize breakfast had a strict schedule."

 Across from him, Bianca—my stepsister—smirked over the rim of her teacup. "You mean you didn't come home last night."

 I met her gaze without flinching. "That's none of your business."

 Her lips curled in amusement. "Everything is my business when you live under this roof."

 I clenched my jaw. If it were up to me, I wouldn't be living here at all. But my options were limited, and my father knew it. He tolerated my presence because, despite his distaste for me, I was still a Russo. And in our world, appearances mattered.

 "Sit," my stepmother, Lilian said smoothly, her voice laced with false warmth. "I had the staff prepare your favorite."

 I highly doubted that.

 Still, I pulled out a chair, my movements careful, controlled. Years of living with these people had taught me to always be on guard. The moment I appeared weak, they would pounce.

 Lilian reached for her coffee, her manicured nails tapping softly against the porcelain. "Your father and I were just discussing something quite interesting."

 I didn't respond. I knew how this game worked—let them talk first, figure out what they wanted before saying anything.

 She smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips. "There's a charity gala tomorrow evening. You'll be attending."

 I nearly laughed. "Oh, will I?"

 Bianca sighed dramatically. "Don't start, Mira. It's important."

 "For who? Certainly not me."

 My father finally set down his paper, fixing me with that cold, calculating stare that had once terrified me as a child. Now, it only made me wary.

 "You will be there," he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I I leaned back, crossing my arms. "And if I don't want to?"

 Lilian chuckled, a sound so saccharine it made my skin crawl. "Oh, darling, you'll want to. Unless, of course, you'd prefer your little… independence to be revoked."

 My blood ran cold. I knew exactly what she meant. My finances, my access to certain privileges—they weren't truly mine. They were given at my father's discretion. And if I pushed too hard, he wouldn't hesitate to remind me of that.

 I forced a neutral expression. "Fine. I'll go."

 Lilian's smile widened, and Bianca looked far too pleased with herself. I wasn't sure what game they were playing, but I knew one thing—whatever this gala was about, it wasn't just a simple charity event.

 And I had a sinking feeling that I was about to find out exactly what they had planned for me.