Chapter 44: 44
With a composed look and a measured smile, I slid into Nix’s car, finding him engrossed with his laptop. As soon as I settled in, he swiftly closed it.
"How was it?" he asked, taking my hand in his.
"It..."
"How did you get injured?" he interrupted, his fingers gently tracing the bandage wrapped around my hand.
"I... I bumped into a nurse carrying some surgical tools, and this happened," I lied, trying to sound casual and reasonable.
"Be more mindful of your surroundings..I wouldn’t want you dying out of the bloom" he said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
"You wanted to visit your family, right?" I asked, studying his face. His expression remained unreadable. "We’ve been invited for a family dinner, and we’ll also be spending some days there. That’s why I asked you to bring your clothes."
I nodded in understanding, but before I could respond, my phone beeped with a notification. I picked it up to find a message from Zamiel.
"A little gift for you," the message read. I tapped on the link underneath it, biting down on my lip to hide the smile creeping onto my face. It was an invitation to the Alpha Four dining table.
"Bonus gift: old man Delton has been battling a heart disease for the past four years, which is supposed to be a secret," the next message read. I looked out the window, unable to suppress the smile any longer. This was more than a gift; it was the key to the downfall of the Delton family.
The Alpha Four dining table is the annual gathering of the four powerful families that make up the Mafia dynasty. This year, it would be hosted by Alpha Two, meaning it would take place in one of Delton’s islands. With everyone wearing masks, it would be easy to conceal my identity and say hello to my dearest grandfather, who must have missed me.
But the problem was how I would attend this event since we were currently headed to visit Nix’s family house, where we would be staying for a few days. The event was in forty-eight hours. Time was running out, and I needed a plan.
"We’re here," I heard Nix say. I looked out the window and saw the car had already come to a stop in front of a huge white gate. The gates opened slowly, and I expected to see a building, but the opposite was true.
Huge trees lined both sides of the driveway, and the car drove down the smooth tarmac path in the center. I looked out, hoping to see something other than trees and flowers, but there was nothing else. It felt like the gate had opened into another world, one filled solely with nature’s creations. I found myself smiling as I gazed at the green landscape before me.
We drove for almost ten minutes before we arrived at what was not just a house, but a mansion. Maids and servants stood on either side of the entrance with their heads bowed, as if a deity was passing by.
The car doors opened simultaneously, and I climbed out at the same time as Nix. I realized I had been wrong to call the building a mansion; it was much more than that. I found myself in front of a structure so grand, it defied description. The mansion stood like an architectural marvel, its magnificence almost overwhelming. The sheer size of it was the first thing that struck me; it seemed to stretch endlessly, a labyrinth of luxury rising out of the lush green landscape.
The exterior walls were a pristine white, gleaming under the sunlight with an almost ethereal glow. Tall, imposing columns framed the entrance, each one intricately carved with designs that seemed to dance and shift as the light played upon them. The façade was adorned with elaborate stonework, where every curve and angle told a story of meticulous craftsmanship and timeless elegance.
Massive windows lined the mansion, their glass so clear and reflective it was as if they were portals to another dimension. Above the windows, grand arches and balconies jutted out, wrapped in vines and flowering plants that added a touch of vibrant color to the stark whiteness. The main entrance was a set of enormous double doors made of dark, polished wood, inlaid with gold and silver patterns that caught the eye and refused to let go.
The surrounding gardens were no less impressive. Immaculately manicured lawns stretched out in all directions, dotted with fountains and statues that seemed almost alive in their perfection. Ancient trees stood like guardians, their branches reaching out to provide shade and their leaves whispering secrets in the breeze. Pathways of cobblestone wound through the gardens, leading to hidden alcoves and sitting areas where one could lose themselves in the serene beauty of the surroundings.
It was not just the grandeur of the mansion but the harmony of its elements that made it indescribable. The way the architecture blended with nature, the meticulous attention to detail, and the sheer scale of it all combined to create an experience that transcended mere words. As I stood there, taking it all in, I felt a profound sense of awe and wonder, as if I had stepped into a dream or a fairy tale, a place where the ordinary rules of reality no longer applied.
"Welcome home, young master," a man dressed in a polished black suit with a pair of glasses perched on his nose bridge and a tablet nestled safely in his hand greeted with a bow. But Nix didn’t respond; instead, he walked ahead of the man as if he didn’t matter, reminding me of one thing: the life of wealth I was about to return to.
As expected, the house was quiet, the only sound being the clicking of my heels against the tile floor. Not even the footsteps of the maids could be heard, the best gift you could give to a wealthy person: quietness. Just like the poor love money, the wealthy prefer quietness as they feel the only time they could achieve something meaningful is when peace and quiet reign in equal proportion.
"Young master!" A man in his mid-sixties, dressed in butler attire, called as he approached us. "It’s a pleasure to have you back, young master." He turned to me with a smile. "Madam," he greeted with a bow.
"Where’s my grandfather?"
"He’s in his study room with the second young master," he responded. Nix nodded, removing his hand from mine and placing it around my waist, pulling me closer to him.
"Are you ready?" he asked, maintaining eye contact with me while I looked away, wondering if I was really ready. I had my bow and was about to be handed an arrow to hit my target, but why did I suddenly feel nervous? As if sensing my nervousness, he bent down, placing a peck on my forehead before placing another on my lips.
"Don’t worry about anything, just be yourself because that’s your charm," he whispered, giving me goosebumps while I held onto his jacket, feeling my knees wobble. He had this effect on me that I couldn’t deny, no matter how much I tried.
As we resumed our steps, I smiled as his words rang in my ear.
"Be myself?"
Really? Being myself meant returning to the way my grandfather made me, a heartless and emotionless killing machine whose only aim and desire is to kill.
As we approached the entrance of the study room, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with curiosity. The door, seemingly unremarkable, was actually a high-tech security marvel. I watched as it silently scanned Nix’s presence, verifying his identity before granting access. As it slid open, I stepped into what felt like a clandestine hideout rather than a simple study room.
The room was bathed in a soft ambient light that highlighted the meticulously organized bookshelves lining the walls. Each book was perfectly aligned, giving the impression that no detail was too small for the owner. At the center of the room, a sleek, modern table and chair commanded attention. The table was dominated by a massive computer screen, hinting at the advanced technological resources at the owner’s disposal.
To one side of the room, a plush, oversized couch invited relaxation, offering a stark contrast to the otherwise utilitarian setup. The blend of comfort and high security gave the room an aura of both refuge and command center, and I could sense the dual purpose of the space: a haven for intellectual pursuit and a nerve center for operations that require utmost discretion and security. It was almost like my grandfather’s study room, if not more advanced.
"See who we have here, grandfather," the person I believed the butler referred to as the second young master spoke, standing at his feet. "Your favorite grandchild." He came closer, placing his hand on Nix’s shoulder, which he shrugged off, disgust visible on his face.
"I don’t know if anyone told you, but I would be delighted to be the first to say this: your life is toxic, and so is your touch, so don’t try affecting me with it," Nix said, dusting his shoulder, and I could feel the tension growing between them.
I bet I forgot to mention that the wealthy also prefer seeing themselves as enemies as much as they prefer their peace and quiet, and that’s one of the reasons my own grandfather sought my death.