Chapter 34: Shared the same interests
Vinni sipped her warm green tea slowly, letting the gentle aroma linger before she set the cup down on the saucer with poised elegance.
"Why have you come here again?" she asked with curiosity, her eyes fixed on Frida.
Frida offered a faint smile before responding, "May I call you aunt? Since we are now connected by family ties, I believe it would be the most fitting way to address you."
She then placed a carefully wrapped bag on the table. "This is a small token I picked up on my way here, a gesture of my gratitude for your help in securing Asher’s bail. Consider it a humble expression of thanks for the kindness you’ve shown."
Vinni’s eyes flickered toward the maid, who stepped forward and discreetly took the bag away.
"Sara didn’t invite her family to the wedding, so I don’t believe we’re close enough for you to call me aunt," Vinni said firmly, her voice calm but edged with resolve. "And regarding Asher’s bail, you needn’t thank me. I was simply correcting my son’s mistake."
Frida inclined her head slightly. "Sure. I understand."
Vinni leaned back gracefully into the couch, folding her hands in her lap as she studied Frida intently. "Then tell me why have you come here? What is it that you want?"
"I don’t want anything, Ma’am," Frida said softly, though her voice lacked conviction.
Vinni’s gaze sharpened. "Your eyes say otherwise. I don’t allow people into this estate unless their presence is worth my time. Speak now, before you lose the chance."
Frida took a slow breath. "Ma’am, I believe you wouldn’t want your son married to my sister. I think... they should divorce. Sara committed grave frauds within the company, yet she slipped away without facing her due punishment. It’s harming your son too. Only his influence keeps it from reaching the media."
Vinni’s lips curved into an amused smirk. "Earlier, you called us family. I thought you cared for your elder sister. But step-relations are just that steps. I can’t help you in this matter. You may leave."
A faint frown appeared on Frida’s forehead; she hadn’t expected such dismissal.
"I thought we shared the same interests," Frida pressed gently, still grasping for a foothold in the conversation.
Vinni’s gaze hardened. "You think being granted a seat before me gives you the right to make demands? Whatever grudges you bear toward Sara, don’t drag them into the life of my son. And mark my words, don’t set foot in this estate again."
She turned slightly toward the butler nearby. "Garette, escort Miss Frida Falcone out."
Garette bowed deeply. "Right away, Madam."
Frida rose gracefully, offering Vinni a measured, polite smile before following Garette toward the exit.
Vinni, on the other hand, picked up her phone and scrolled to Sara’s contact. She pressed the dial and brought it to her ear.
A few rings went by, but the call wasn’t answered. Lowering the phone to her side, Vinni murmured, "Is Luca preventing her from answering my call?" A chuckle escaped her mouth as she leaned back gracefully on the couch.
~~~~
"Why are we here?" Sara asked softly, her eyes drifting across the restaurant. It was an old-world gem tucked away in the heart of the old town, a vintage-style restaurant with deep mahogany furniture, low-hanging chandeliers, and walls adorned with faded photographs of bygone eras. The dim light gave the room a warm, intimate glow.
Most tables were occupied where chatters were going on with the velvety tones of the jazz band playing ahead.
Luca guided her toward an empty corner table, where a small candle flickered between neatly arranged cutlery. He pulled out her chair with a faint smile, letting her sink into it.
A waiter approached, his steps quiet against the polished wooden floor. Luca ordered an assortment of Italian delicacies. "We would like to have risotto, truffle pasta, and a fresh bruschetta platter, along with two glasses of red wine."
Sara let out a soft sigh, her lips curling into a smile as she took in the cozy atmosphere. Thanking the waiter as he poured water into crystal glasses, she lifted hers slowly to her lips.
Sara smiled softly at his words. Luca took her left hand in his, his fingers gently tracing the lines of her palm as his gaze lingered on hers.
"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, setting the glass onto the table.
"Nothing," he murmured, though his eyes betrayed him.
"You’re thinking of something," Sara insisted, tugging her hand back slightly, curiosity threading her voice.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Good," she replied.
"Just good? I expected more."
She paused, her eyes drifting to the scenery around them. "It’s beautiful here. I’ve truly forgotten the life I had in Spain," she admitted. "It’s temporary but it’ll be memorable."
The waiter arrived with their order and set the dishes on the table. He excused himself, letting them enjoy their dinner.
Sara ended up drinking more wine than eating.
"You’ve had enough," Luca said, snatching the glass from her hand and placing it just out of reach.
"You’re so annoying," she replied with a half-smile, picking at the remaining pasta on her plate. "Ahh! I’m full." She set down her fork, leaning back in her chair with a tired sigh.
"Julia became my friend back in seventh grade... Why would she bring something like that?" Sara murmured to herself.
Luca lowered the napkin onto his plate after wiping his mouth.
"I don’t get it, Luca," she said suddenly, leaning forward. Her voice trembled. "We even went to the same university. I always considered her more than a friend, a sister you can say. And then she just... appeared in the boardroom with that false evidence. I understand my stepmother, brother, and sister hate me. But why my best friend?" Her eyes glistened, misting over with unshed tears.
Luca stood, collecting the plates. Without a word, he called for water and quickly cleared the table before paying the bill.
"Let’s go outside first," he said softly, rising. "Then I’ll answer."
Sara stretched her arms wide. "Carry me. My feet ache."