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A little standing up for myself won't hurt

It's been weeks since the fight between Master Terrone and Master Jose, and the tension has been palpable. Mistress Venita, his wife, has been a constant thorn in my side, and I've been feeling the strain. As I mopped the kitchen floor, Emily approached me, her voice soft and cautious. "Hey Allison, the mistress wants to see you." I raised an eyebrow, my mind racing with possibilities. Emily shook her head, "Not my orders, but hers." She chuckled at my pouting face, and I couldn't help but laugh too. This was the fifth time that morning she'd summoned me, and it was always for some trivial task. I couldn't help but feel a growing resentment towards her.

I wiped my hands on my apron and made my way to the sitting room, where Mistress Venita sat cross-legged, sipping her wine. Her son Leonardo looked eerily like her, with the same cold, calculating gaze. I bowed my head, feeling a shiver run down my spine as she fixed me with a dangerous glare. The Ndrangheta family was known for their
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