Chapter 2 #2
And then I move to the vanity, my hands trembling slightly as I sit down.
The array of beauty products in front of me feels strange, like I’ve never used them before.
Bria is usually the one who does it for me.
She has such an eye for that. I take a deep breath, calming my racing thoughts as I begin to apply my makeup.
I start with foundation, blending it evenly, focusing on each stroke as if it will somehow make me more present in this life I’m trying to fit into.
The lipstick is a soft nude, just enough to highlight the fullness of my lips without feeling like I’m trying too hard.
I brush some blush on my cheeks, trying to add color to the pale face that has seen too much heartache.
And finally, I apply mascara, the dark lashes adding a bit of contrast to the softness of my features.
I am Magnolia Rusco. I echo out loud to myself in the mirror.
I reach for the small jewelry box on the dresser that has my name engraved on it. Inside, I find a white gold necklace, its chain delicate and the pendant a small, intricate flower.
I quickly grab onto my magnolia necklace, the one Sin got for me, and rip it away from my neck, tossing it onto the floor.
I slip the new one on, a gift from my mother, feeling the cool metal against my skin, and I almost expect to feel her presence with me, like I’m close to something I never thought I’d have.
Just as I’m finishing up, there’s a soft knock at the door. I look over, startled.
"Magnolia?" It’s Cameron’s voice. "Dinner’s about to start. Are you ready?"
I take a deep breath, turning away from the mirror one last time. "I am.”
The dining room is grand, bigger than any room I’ve ever eaten in.
A long mahogany table stretches nearly the length of the space, polished to a gleam beneath the chandelier’s golden glow.
Crystal glasses reflect the flickering candlelight, and the scent of roasted meat, garlic, and fresh bread fills the air.
I hesitate in the doorway, my fingers gripping the trim as Cameron walks past me, nodding towards my mother. She stands, her crimson dress sweeping the floor as she walks to me. “You look beautiful.” She whispers, her eyes brimming with tears that she bats away.
“Thank you for the dress.” I say quietly, nerves settling in as I look around. The room is full, at least a dozen people, all seated, all waiting.
All waiting for me.
It’s a scene from a life I never had.
A meal with people I should know, in a house that should feel familiar, at a table that should have once been mine. But it’s all foreign.
My mother stands beside me, composed but unmistakably emotional as she scans the faces around the table. “Everyone,” she says, her voice firm but soft with something unspoken. “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Magnolia.”
The silence stretches for a breath. Then another.
A chair scrapes back, and a woman rises, pressing a hand to her mouth. She has silver hair swept into an elegant twist, striking green eyes that remind me of Maria’s, and a face lined with both age and beauty.
“Oh, cara mia,” she whispers. “Look at you.”
She steps toward me hesitantly, as if afraid I’ll vanish if she moves too quickly. Before I can react, she wraps me in a firm embrace, her perfume floral and familiar even though I don’t remember ever smelling it before.
“I’m your grandmother, Mariana, on your mother’s side” she murmurs into my hair, her voice thick. “And I have waited for this moment my entire life. To hold you again.”
Again? I hope my mother’s letter is correct, that the answers I need will happen soon. Hopefully it isn’t here, with all of these people who look like they’ve seen a ghost.
She pulls back, blinking rapidly, and cups my face like she’s trying to memorize every detail. “You look so much like your father,” she says, voice breaking.
A lump forms in my throat, too heavy to swallow down.
Before I can think of what to say, a tall, broad-shouldered man with salt-and-pepper hair and deep-set eyes steps forward. He claps a strong hand on my shoulder, his grip warm, grounding.
“I’m Luca,” he says, his voice deep but kind. “Your father was my brother. And you,” His jaw tightens. “You were never forgotten, Magnolia. Not for a single day.”
A wave of emotion crashes over me. It’s too much too fast, but at the same time, I don’t want them to stop. I don’t want this moment to end.
One by one, they introduce themselves. Cousins, uncles, aunts. Family. Family who, despite the years of separation, look at me with nothing but love.
I find my seat beside Cameron, who gives me a slight, reassuring nod. Across from me sits Mariana, my grandmother. “We made all your father’s favorites tonight,” she says. “He would have wanted that.”
A lump rises in my throat. “Thank you,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
Plates are passed around, filled with roasted lamb, buttery potatoes, fresh-baked rolls, and a rich, creamy pasta dish. The scent alone is enough to make my stomach rumble, even though I’m unsure I can eat at all.
As conversation picks up, I mostly listen, absorbing. They talk about their days, the business, old stories of my father.
The conversation drifts to an upcoming event that I’m hoping I’ll be able to hide out for, and someone - Aunt Eleanor, I think - turns to my mother with a familiar grin.
“Tell the story, Maria,” she says. “Tell Magnolia how you met her father.”
The room stills slightly, a quiet sort of anticipation hanging between the walls. I look up from my plate and find my mother already watching me, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"You’d like to hear it?" she asks.
I nod, even though I’m not sure what to expect. I know nothing about my parents' past, who they were before everything fell apart. But if this story gives me a glimpse of the father I never knew, I want to hear it.
She exhales softly, setting her wine glass down, and begins.
"It was a masquerade ball," she says, her voice steady but distant, like she’s reaching through time to pull the memory forward. "One hosted right here, in this estate. I was young, just turned twenty, and I had no desire to be mingling with strangers.”
I can’t imagine her at my age, restless and defiant, but the hint of mischief in her eyes tells me it’s true. "I hated every second of it," she continues. "Every man who asked me to dance was more interested in my last name than me. I just wanted to disappear."
"Did you?" I ask.
She laughs under her breath. "I tried. I slipped out onto the balcony, thinking I could steal a few minutes alone. And that’s when I saw him."
I lean forward, drawn in despite myself.
"My father?" I’m suddenly four years old again, sitting at the orphanage daydreaming about my parents. Wondering even the smallest sliver of their lives.
"Yes," she murmurs, a faraway look softening her features. "Alexander Donati.” My breath hitches hearing his name for the first time. “He wasn’t wearing a mask like the others, he never cared for games like that. He was leaning against the railing, watching the city, and he looked… untouchable."
Her fingers brush the rim of her glass, lost in the memory.
"He saw me before I could turn away. And instead of introducing himself, instead of bowing and offering his hand like all the others, he just smirked and said, "You don’t belong in there either, do you?’" a deep voice cuts in. I turn to Cameron, who’s grinning like he’s heard this story a thousand times before.
Maria chuckles. "Exactly."
Something inside me aches at the thought of them. Young, full of fire, standing in the moonlight before they even knew what their love would become.
"And then what?" I ask.
She sighs. "And then he asked if I wanted to leave. Just like that. No formalities, no expectations. He offered his hand, and I took it. Not knowing this was his home, his father’s party.”
She looks up at me then, her expression unreadable.
"I think I knew, even then, that my life would never be the same."
Silence lingers at the table, the weight of the past settling between us. I see her emotions for the first time, in the way her fingers tighten around the stem of her glass, in the way her voice turns wistful at the edges.
“You know,” Luca says, pausing to sip his wine, steering the conversation to something lighter. Which we all need right now. He leans back in his chair, swirling the last of his whiskey in his glass. He’s been watching me all night, like he’s been waiting for the right moment to speak.
“You know,” he finally says, “everyone always talks about your father like he was some kind of legend.”
The table quiets a little, attention shifting toward him. My mother sighs, shaking her head.
“Luca.”
“Oh, come on, Maria, let me tell the girl a story. Not everything about Alexander was poetry and fate.” He smirks at me. “Your father was a pain in my ass.”
I blink. “Really?” A chuckle escapes me, and I don’t miss the way it makes my mom smile.
“Oh, you have no idea.” He sets his glass down and cracks his knuckles like he’s preparing for battle. “Let me tell you about the time he and I tried to sneak into the mayor’s house.”
Cameron groans. “Not this story.”
Luca ignores him. “So, we were about thirteen and fifteen, your father was the older one, obviously, and we got it in our heads that we needed to prove ourselves. And what better way than breaking into the most heavily guarded house in the city?”
I raise a brow. “That sounds incredibly stupid.”
Luca grins. “It was. But you have to understand, your father wasn’t afraid of anything. He was reckless, and I was dumb enough to go along with it. We had this brilliant plan, right? We were going to sneak in, steal the mayor’s fancy cigar box, and leave a note just to let him know we could.”
“You wanted to rob the mayor for fun?” I ask.
“It wasn’t robbing! It was… strategic embarrassment.”
“You mean a prank?”