How much is a seat?
1254 Words
“Yayyy! We’re here!” Leonardo clapped happily as they stood on the porch of the Moretti mansion.
Emilia had eventually given in to Leonardo’s wish. They had gone home, washed up, and prepared for the birthday. That was also how she agreed to let Dante come along—though she had warned him that he was still on strict probation.
“Don’t think I’ve forgiven you, Dante. I’m only doing this for Leonardo. You saved him earlier—that earned you the right to stay with us. But expect nothing from me. Just focus on being the best dad to Leonardo. One more mistake, and you’re out.”
Those were her words. Dante couldn’t help remembering how her eyes had shone with warning. She probably thought it made her look tough—but he found it extremely cute. He would win her heart back, no matter what. Even if it meant taking down the whole of Monterio.
Dante pressed his hand over Emilia’s. “It’s okay. I’m here.” He had noticed how tense she’d been since they arrived.
“They despise me, Dante,” she whispered, making sure the excited child wouldn’t hear.
Immediately, a pang of pain pierced Dante’s chest.
I am the reason for your sorrows, Emilia. You were humiliated because you got pregnant out of wedlock. But it’s time I fix everything.
“Trust me, Emilia. I’ll make everything right again,” he said softly, hoping to soothe her.
She forced a smile, as if she didn’t believe him. Of course she didn’t.
They finally made their way into the hall.
And as if everyone had been waiting for them, a male voice rang out instantly.
“Well… well… well… if it isn’t my dear sister. Who else could it be?” Stefan—her stepbrother—drawled mockingly, drawing everyone’s eyes to Emilia.
Slowly, her father, stepmother, and stepsister, along with their spouses, all turned to look at her.
“What is this wench doing here?” her father’s voice thundered across the room.
“This is unbelievable! Showing your face in the Moretti household after the shame you brought?” her stepmother, Marie, snapped. The woman had never liked her for even a moment.
“Looks like she brought company too. The two black sheep of Monterio showing up here—are we cursed on your birthday, Dad?” Celia, her stepsister, purred.
“She looks bigger than the last time we saw her. Looks like she’s been spending a lot of time w*****g in the slums,” Thomas, Celia’s husband, chimed in as the whispers from the crowd swelled.
“I wonder why she even came. Doesn’t she have any sense of shame? How disgusting,” one of the elites muttered.
“Look at that man beside her—he looks familiar. Isn’t he that Virelli man? The one who was cast out of the household?”
Fingers practically pointed at them as if they were a plague.
“I knew it was a bad idea to come,” Emilia whispered, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill.
Before Dante could speak, Leonardo ran straight into the middle of the chaos.
“Uncle!” he shouted, oblivious to the hostility around them as he sprinted toward Stefan.
“Leo! Stop!” Emilia called, but it was too late.
The boy hugged Stefan, recognizing him from the family picture Emilia had once shown him.
“What the hell! Get off me, you stinking brat!” Stefan shoved Leonardo aside almost instantly, looking disgusted.
“Look at that! He wasn’t even properly trained. What do you expect from a wayward child?” Marie retorted. Everything about Emilia seemed to irritate her.
Emilia bowed her head, her body trembling in shame.
Dante rushed forward and pulled Leonardo to his side. The child already looked sour and disappointed. Dante needed to take control.
“You might be dumb, but even you should know shoving a kid like that is inhumane,” Dante hissed, staring daggers at Stefan.
“Well, look at that!” Stefan snapped. “Isn’t he the Virellis’ disgrace? Hey, Emilia! You brought him here to do what? Embarrass yourself?!”
“Don’t be a fool,” Dante said coldly. “The little boy thought he had a reasonable family on this side of Monterio. But it seems you’re all unworthy of being part of his. We’ll leave now. Staying here is bad for my son’s mental health.”
He turned, almost walking out—victorious—when suddenly Celia stepped forward.
“Bullshit!” she barked. “It’s you losers showing up that’s bad for us! You ruined our image! You’re not worthy of setting foot here!”
“Then how much would it cost to make us qualified to be here?” Dante asked, his voice clipped.
“What?” Celia looked at him with disgust, as though he were speaking nonsense. “Are you talking about paying like every other guest to attend?” She let out a mocking laugh.
“Yes,” Dante said confidently.
Emilia stiffened immediately. She rushed to him.
“What are you doing, Dante?! Let’s just go. It’s fine. We don’t need to make a scene.”
“Oh no, no, don’t rush off like that, dear sister. Your partner wants to join the party—I’ll give him a chance,” Celia smirked.
We don’t have any money! Emilia wanted to scream. His words had come out of nowhere!
But stopping him would only make them laugh harder. They would say she brought Dante just to beg for acceptance. She bit her lip, regretting her decisions.
“As we all know… here in the Moretti household, at every influential family’s birthday banquet, every guest pays an amount to attend. And not only that—the amount you pay determines the seat you get. It’s a way to categorize yourself among the rich and powerful,” Celia said proudly, clearly savoring the humiliation.
“And now my dear, useless peasant sister and her family want a seat.”
Laughter erupted across the hall. Emilia trembled.
“But don’t worry, sister. There’s one seat you can have. It doesn’t cost a dime since your partner is dying for a spot.” Celia’s eyes gleamed with cruelty. “The dog house in the west wing of the mansion.”
Another explosion of laughter filled the room.
“Oh dear… that was harsh, sister. She’s still family. Don’t be like that,” Stefan said with fake pity as he stepped forward.
“She is a dog. A dog that sleeps around. That’s the only spot that suits her,” Marie added.
“So disgusting,” her father spat.
“You’ve made your conclusions before I’ve even stated what I want, Celia. Isn’t that a bit rude?” Dante asked, tone dripping with mockery.
“Rude? To you?” Celia choked on a laugh again.
Dante stayed silent.
It was Emilia’s turn. She tugged at his sleeve. “Dante, please. Let’s go. I don’t want more trouble.”
“No, Emilia. They started it. I’m not leaving like this.” Dante’s voice was firm.
Thomas slurred, “He’s trying to play hero! Isn’t this interesting? Stefan! Tell him how much it costs to get a seat at the Moretti banquet. And if he can’t afford it, he should promise to take his little trash family to the dog house until the event ends.”
And that was it—the final straw.
- Writer
