The Return to Milan

3 months later...

In Milan, the morning light slipped through the tall windows of the De Santis family home, revealing luxury in every corner and wealth reflected in the finest details, from the exquisite furnishings to the elegant decoration that spoke of refined taste and a distinguished social standing.

The house was spacious and elegant, with polished marble floors and crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings.

At the long dining table, the family had gathered as they did every morning.

At the head of the table sat Alessia, Silvia's mother, a woman in her early seventies.

To her right sat Silvia De Rossi.

To Alessia's left sat Monica, Silvia's eldest daughter and the CEO of the family company.

Beside Monica sat Marco, her twenty-three-year-old younger brother and her partner in managing the company.

Across from them sat Maria, Silvia's youngest daughter, twenty years old.

Beside Maria sat Sophia, Silvia's niece, who had been living with them for the past five years after losing her parents in a car accident.

Monica set her glass of juice down. "We have the final presentation with the board today regarding the Amalfi Prestige Resort," she said calmly.

Marco looked up at her. "I reviewed the file you sent last night. There's a point in the budget that needs clarification."

She met his gaze. "Which point?"

He unlocked his phone. "The execution cost in phase two. The numbers seem lower than expected."

"That's because we'll be working with new suppliers," she replied."It reduces the cost by twenty percent."

"And the risk?" he asked.

"It's a calculated risk." she replied.

Silvia finally spoke. "Are the contracts confirmed?"

"I reviewed them myself, Mom," Monica said.

Marco added,"I'll go over them again on my way."

Monica glanced at him and smiled. "Review or delay?"

He smiled faintly."Review. This time."

Maria glanced between them and laughed softly.

"Do you always start working this early?"

"We never really stop," Marco replied with a laugh.

She shook her head. "This is so boring. I really hate working, and I don't even want to graduate just so I won't be forced to join you at the company. I believe people work to earn enough money to live, but we already have plenty-more than enough. So why do you keep working?"

Monica chuckled lightly, setting the glass of juice she had been drinking on the table before she said, "My dear Maria, people don't work only for money. They work to have an independent identity and a purpose to live for, to be of value in life."

Alessia watched their usual conversation with a smile, amused by their contrasting views on work and life. Maria and Monica were complete opposites in nature. She set the fork she was holding on the table, then looked at Monica and said, "I agree with both Maria and you equally. In my personal opinion, it is important for a person to work in order to have an independent identity, as you said, Monica, but it is also important to balance one's personal and professional life, and to enjoy life rather than exhaust oneself in work like you do."

Then she turned to Maria and said, "If you dislike work to that extent, Maria, what will you do after you graduate from the Faculty of Arts you're studying at?"

"I study Italian literature because I love it—no, I adore it—and I truly enjoy studying it. But my goal was never to get a job," Maria replied passionately.

"May God bless you, my dear." Her grandmother said.

Maria smiled softly, "Thank you, Grandma. I love you," then she stood, grabbing her bag and blowing her a kiss. "I'm heading to university. I have two lectures, then I'm meeting my friends."

Monica looked at her. "Don't be late."

"I won't," Maria said. "But don't wait for me at dinner if I'm a little late."

"Be back at a reasonable time," Silvia said, giving her a warning look as she pointed a finger at her.

Maria nodded and gave a small mock bow, a playful smile on her lips. "As you command, Your Majesty," she replied teasingly. Then she left.

Silvia laughed, glancing around at everyone as they laughed along with her. "I don’t know who that mischievous girl takes after."

"She takes after me, obviously," Marco said jokingly, then stood up and adjusted his jacket."I'm going to the café first. I'll meet a friend there—we need to talk about something."

"The meeting is in an hour. Don't be late," Monica reminded him.

He raised his hand. "I'll be there." Then he stepped closer and leaned in, whispering in her ear. "Don't carry everything on your own."

She blinked. "I don’t," she answered simply.

He smiled. "You're trying, at least." Then he left.

Only Monica, Silvia, Alessia, and Sophia remained.

After a few seconds, Silvia looked at Monica and said, "You're pushing yourself more than necessary."

"It's part of the job," Monica replied.

Silvia looked at her. "The job doesn't demand everything."

Monica met her eyes. "But the results do, Mom."

"Just make sure you don't pay the price later." Alessia chimed in.

"I won’t, Grandma," Monica said, shaking her head.

For the first time, Sophia spoke. "It all seems very—precise. As usual."

Monica turned to her, one eyebrow lifting in question. "Is there a problem, Sophia?"

Sophia's lips curved into a smirk. "No, on the contrary. It's impressive—having someone who always knows what they're doing."

Monica narrowed her eyes at her. "If you have something to say, say it directly. I don't like hints, and you know very well that I've never liked beating around the bush."

Sophia shook her head slightly. "No, I don’t want to say anything specific. I just meant that not everyone has the advantage of being in control of everything like you do, as if the world revolves around you alone."

Monica sighed in frustration and despair, then picked up her glass of water and took a sip, as if trying to swallow the poison she had just heard.

"Everyone has their role; the world doesn’t revolve around anyone," Alessia clarified, looking at Sophia.

Sophia nodded. "Of course," she said sarcastically. Then she stood and left the table.

Silvia turned to Monica, placed a hand on her shoulder, and said, "Don’t be upset with her, my dear. She loves you, but you know her parents’ death affected her mood deeply."

Monica nodded. "And I love her too, Mom, and I consider her just like Maria. But I really don’t know why she treats me this way. Sometimes I feel like she hates me," she murmured.

"That's not true. She loves you too," she said, then smiled proudly at Monica as she lifted her chin so she would look at her. "Everyone loves you, my dear. No one in this life could ever hate you."

Monica chuckled softly. "I appreciate the confidence, Mom, but I'm pretty sure there's at least one exception."

A few minutes later, Monica stood. "I'm leaving."

Silvia looked at her. "Are you ready for the meeting?"

Monica replied confidently, "Sure."

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to Silvia's cheek before moving to Alessia and doing the same. "I love you both," she murmured, then walked away.

------

That morning, at Milan Airport.

The plane had landed. Marcello opened his eyes and looked out through the glass at the city. There was no hesitation in him. He stood, picked up his bag, and walked forward with steady steps. And when he stepped outside the plane, he paused briefly. "I'm back," he said in a low, firm voice.