Chapter 3

Ever since Tanya moved into the family estate, Luciano rarely stayed at his apartment outside the estate.

Actually, Luciano wasn't the only son. He used to have a younger brother, Dante Ascrofi.

Paolo handed Dante the smaller, peripheral businesses to manage, but the young and ambitious Dante felt an early determination to pull out the old Alpha's fangs.

When ambition outpaced ability, revealing it too soon would only backfire.

Dante vanished in an avalanche at the family's ski resort, his body never to be found. In fact, no one even cared.

Paolo left Dante's funeral entirely in Luciano's hands. "I know you'll be an obedient child, right?"

After hearing that, the young and hot-headed Luciano learned to be compliant and obedient.

Paolo was already used to everyone bowing to him. Anyone who bared their fangs would be swiftly dealt with. Perhaps it was by fate.

Fate also didn't spare his birth mother.

His birth mother, Olga Bianchi, was also a Jarlander, but she was unlike the gentle Tanya. If Tanya were a magnolia tree basking under the spring sunlight, Olga was a sharp blade forged from iron.

She was a noblewoman who always wore dark-colored dresses, forever composed, and her expression was stern.

As far as Luciano could remember, she had never smiled at him.

She had handed power to her husband early on, fueling his rise, only for it to turn back and consume her in the end.

Luciano grew up caught between his parents' conflicts. He was silent and composed, seeming to have neither ambition nor achievement.

The late Dante had been nothing more than the illegitimate child of an inconsequential woman. Paolo didn't love him, or to be exact, Paolo didn't care about him.

It was Luciano, the elder brother who should have hated him, who ended up raising him.

In short, Luciano was born into a twisted family.

He despised everything decaying in the old mansion—the heavy, oppressive floors, the corridors, and the eaves… Everything gave off a suffocating, inescapable stench.

Tanya was the only splash of light. She was like the blooming magnolia tree Luciano had seen as a child, bathed in sunlight in a quiet corner of the garden.

What did that old thing do to deserve moving her into this decaying garden?

Anyway, Luciano moved back to the mansion, which pleased Paolo greatly.

After Dante died, Luciano's leaving was seen as a dangerous signal, proof that he was uncontrollable.

Since Luciano was still an obedient son in other aspects, he assumed Luciano was simply afraid of being stirred by old memories.

As Luciano's father, Paolo criticized his weakness, but as the Don, he found comfort in it.

"Luciano, how did your madre and I bring up such an obedient child like you? How unbelievable."

Luciano never answered that question.

Perhaps he wasn't obedient at all, just hiding sharp, vicious thorns, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

However, there was no need for the old Paolo to find out.

…

Luciano seemed to be constantly busy, handling most of his work at home. In fact, Paolo and Tanya had even more activities than him.

Paolo was often tied up with business, while Tanya kept the household running smoothly and oversaw all the Ascrofi family's public charity events. When Paolo wasn't around, the young Tanya was surprisingly able to handle everything well.

Yet somehow, the house felt a touch warmer than it had when Olga was alive.

Tanya was like a soft-edged blade, gentle as a spring breeze, yet striking with sudden precision, leaving deep, lasting marks.

Once, Luciano was heading out when he bumped into her at the porch.

She was clad in a dress as usual, a pale moon-white gown embroidered with subtle silver patterns, gentle and understated. She looked slender and tall, her hair left free rather than styled in a bun.

Large sunglasses covered half of her face, revealing her delicate chin.

Luciano couldn't see her eyes but only read a hint of unusual coldness at the corners of her lips. It was really unfamiliar.

At home, or perhaps the place they called home, she rarely dressed so neatly. She always dressed in cotton dresses, the long hem brushing the floor to cover her legs, with her bare feet peeking out underneath. Her hair was loosely pinned up, falling in a careless, relaxed manner.

Occasionally, glimpses of her arms or legs revealed bruises tinged with red or pale blue. Beneath the surface, her pale, delicate skin seemed almost translucent.

When she wasn't busy handling the household affairs, she often spent her time arranging flowers or preparing coffee. Those were boring hobbies.

She was languid and relaxed, like a cat.

"Luciano, I'm hoping you'll attend the charity dinner event tonight."

As she spoke softly, her smile was perfectly balanced, neither too warm nor too distant.

After three seconds of silence, Luciano pulled his phone out to postpone his meeting, then accepted her invitation.

"This way, Madre."