Damien’s Unraveling

Chapter 2 – Gattiaa

Diana

Diana Isabella White stood in the luxurious kitchen of the Petrov estate, the only sound the gentle hiss of a gas flame and the occasional clink of metal as she sorted fresh ingredients. The scent of rosemary and garlic filled the cold stone room. At twenty years old, five-foot-five, she moved with quiet precision — years of evening shifts here, learning from her talented mother, before she died.

But tonight, the kitchen felt different. The air was heavy, taut, as though waiting for the storm that would follow.

Across the long marble island, an envelope lay. Not one of the usual supply invoices, but something new — bold red wax seal bearing the mark of the Italian crest. Instinct knotted my stomach. I swallowed. If i opened it now, my life would shift.

I did.

Inside, a single sheet of paper, printed in English: “Damien Zayn Vasquez accepts the truce. Petrov-White family to proceed with alliance. Your attendance at the gala is required. Bring nothing but your name.”

I froze. My heart pounded. The Italian crest. The name Damien Zayn Vasquez.My adopted family’s enemy. The man i had been drilled to hate since i knew how to hate.

I closed my eyes and breathed out. I placed the letter on the cold countertop and turned back to my prepping. Chopping onions between clean fingers. The rhythm calmed me so well, but the anger bubbled just under the surface

What exactly was going on?.

Later that evening, I decided to take a stroll. The moon cast pale light through the tall windows of the estate as I stepped outside for a few minutes of air. The night was still. The garden path stretched beneath my feet, trimmed hedges, statues frozen in moonlight, and tall beautiful trees that surrounded the estate. I needed distance from the envelope’s weight.

I walked till I heard The distant conversation of Moscow's finest richest and most influential's voices faintly from a nearby drawing room where my adopted father and brothers gathered. They literally ruled the country. I pulled my coat tighter, remembering how they looked at me: pity, contempt, suspicion. I was the outsider, the adopted sister, the one who didn’t belong.

Back inside, the estate’s lanterns glowed, casting long shadows through the tall windows. , my brothers’ laughter echoed in the hall. The music swelled. Press of voices.

A tray of hors d’oeuvres I had prepared earlier were carried inside delicately by the staffs into the main hall. I had taken my time to prepare every dish almost as well as my mother would have. Cooking was my favourite thing to do but also made me miss her so much more.

The rich scent of wine, perfume,expensive garments and imported roses filled the air.

They placed the food on the buffet ,I supervised making sure everything was perfect before i went up to get ready. Mr Petrov always lectured me about first appearances I decided to do a quick survey of the crowd through narrowed eyes.

And there he was.