The next morning, Franco knocked on the door of his daughter’s room, feeling a sense of dread building in his chest. He had spent many years trying to tame Angela’s rebellious spirit, and he fully expected a fight before today’s important meeting. But when the door creaked open, he was greeted by something entirely unexpected.
Nancy, pretending to be Angela, stood in front of him, already dressed in an elegant semi-formal dress. Her hair was neatly styled, her face fresh as if she had been ready for hours. A small, calm smile graced her lips.
"Good morning, Dad," she said softly, her tone almost... pleasant. "Are we leaving soon?"
Franco blinked in surprise, his mouth slightly open. His mind raced to adjust to the sight before him—Angela ready, early, and seemingly agreeable. This was n
