Not a Nobody

MAKING THE TABLE'S TURN

Near the lavish food table, Fiona was happily sharing stories with her new friend Jennie. The two laughed easily, the comfort of newfound friendship lighting up the room.

Maximus, always watchful, noticed Giovanni quietly observing his sister from a distance. With a sly grin, Maximus approached the pair.

“Hey, sis,” Maximus said with a playful sparkle in his eyes as he gently pulled Jennie aside. “May I steal this little girl for a few minutes?” Jennie irritately said am notttt little girl mr

Fiona laughed, watching Maximus tug Jennie’s hand. “Go ahead, Maxy. Have fun!”

The lighthearted moment filled the air with warmth and laughter.

Just then, a deep, commanding voice echoed from behind Fiona.

hi miss. salvatore

Fiona turned slowly, her smile fading into stunned surprise.

Before her stood a muscular, handsome man radiating an intense, powerful presence — more impressive and captivating than anyone she had seen so far.

His eyes held a quiet strength, and his aura filled the space effortlessly.

Fiona felt her heart skip, caught off guard by the sudden encounter.

The man’s eyes didn’t leave her. Every detail—the way her hair caught the light, the curve of her smile, even the faint scent of jasmine—seemed to hold him spellbound.

“I’m Giovanni,” he said, his voice low and steady, though tinged with awe. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone quite like you.”

Fiona blinked, sizing him up with a playful smirk. “Like me, mister?” she teased lightly, then turned and walked away without waiting for a reply.

Giovannie watched her go, a slow smile spreading across his face. She’s different, he thought. Not just beautiful—there’s fire in her. That confidence, that quick wit… it’s magnetic. I don’t even know her, why do I suddenly feel like I need to know everything about you?

Giovannie stayed rooted to the spot, hands in his pockets, eyes still on her.She laughed — that same quick, melodic laugh he’d just heard — and threw her arms around her grandmother. Giovannie stopped in his tracks, watching quietly from a distance.He didn’t want to intrude. Not yet.

Meanwhile, Viola wasn’t spending her evening in anxious waiting like the others expected. Instead, she was laughing and chatting with the two guards her father had assigned to escort her to her room. The air between them wasn’t just warm — it was charged.

One of the guards, tall and sharp-eyed, leaned casually against the wall as she teased him playfully about his stiff posture. The other, broader and quieter, simply watched her with something deeper in his gaze — admiration, maybe even desire. Viola knew the effect she had on people, and tonight, she wasn’t afraid to use it.

The narrow hallway just outside her room became a playground of flirtation. Whispers turned into soft touches — a brush of her fingers on a uniformed arm, a playful nudge with her shoulder. The tension grew slowly, sweetly, like a game they were all willing to play but none brave enough to end.

By the time they reached her door, Viola paused and turned to face them, her eyes gleaming with mischief and curiosity. “You two always follow orders this well?” she asked softly, her voice a silk ribbon in the quiet night.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward — it was heavy with suggestion. She didn’t invite them in. She didn’t need to. Her smile alone lingered like perfume in the air,

The door to Viola’s room creaked open as she stepped inside, casting a smoldering glance over her shoulder. The two guards hesitated for only a heartbeat before following, grinning at each other. “We always thought she was the real Miss Salvatore,” one whispered. “But she’s not,” the other smirked, “which means we can have a little fun—and she’s the one inviting us.” Just as the door was about to close behind them, a shadow at the end of the hallway froze—Josh, Maximus’s closest friend, had turned the corner and caught the sight of Viola and the two guards slipping into her room, the air thick with flirtation. He had seen enough... and he wasn’t sure what he’d do with it.He turned quickly, his boots thudding against the marble as he walked away, trying to shake the image from his mind. But it clung to him like smoke.

The night unfolded exactly how Viola intended — fierce, wild, and without restraint. Her hands trembled, not from nerves, but from the raw mix of power and defiance pulsing through her. Every touch, every whispered word from the guards was fuel to the fire burning in her chest. She wasn’t trying to feel loved. She was trying to forget. To punish someone who wasn’t even there.

Fiona.

The name was poison on her tongue, though she never dared speak it aloud. Fiona — the rightful one. The blood daughter. The one their parents were now whispering about behind closed doors.

So Viola let herself lose control. She paid the guards generously before sunrise, lips curled in a bitter smile as she handed over their silence in envelopes. “Not a word,” she warned, voice sweet as sugar but sharp as glass.

By morning, she stepped out onto her balcony, half dressed, half smeared in last night’s makeup. Her lipstick was smudged down her jaw, mascara trailing beneath her eyes, and her silk robe hung loosely off one shoulder. She lit a cigarette with shaking fingers, unaware that below, in the garden, someone was watching.

Maximus.

He had risen early, walking the grounds to clear his own brewing storm of thoughts about yesterday things about viola and the guards, maxi's friend josh called him and let him know these things in the morning itself — and then he saw her. The mess of her. The bra strap visible. The tired, smug look in her eyes. It wasn't shame he saw. It was daring.

His fists clenched.

“She doesn't even care,” he muttered to himself. “This is the girl Father let into our home? The girl he chose to cover for Fiona?”

By the time he stormed back inside, his anger had nowhere to go but up.

“She’s destroying this family,” he spat at his father in the study. “And you let her. You sent Fiona away — your real daughter — and let her stay here to stain our name. You think Viola is innocent? She’s not. She’s rotten,

Maximus’s voice rose, sharp and bitter. “You’re blind, Father. She’s manipulating you. She’s not who you think she is.”

Mr. Salvatore leaned back in his chair, brows furrowed, more tired than angry. “You're only saying this now because Fiona is back. Don’t think I don’t see it, Maximus. You've always been distinct to her — but this sudden hatred for Viola? It’s not truth. It’s guilt.”

Maximus’s jaw clenched. “No, it’s reality,” he snapped. You keep painting Viola as some fragile, tragic soul, but she’s not. She’s reckless. Cold. Last night, I saw her parading around half-naked on her balcony like she owns this place. And you know what? She acts like she does — because we’ve all let her!”

Mr. Salvatore stood slowly, eyes narrowing. “Watch your tone.”

“I am watching it,” Maximus growled. “You just don’t like hearing the truth. You didn’t even question why Fiona had to leave in the first place. You let Viola wear her life like a costume — and now look. Look what she’s become.”

The study door opened sharply, and Mrs. Salvatore entered, her expression tight with worry. “What is going on here?” she asked, eyes flicking between them.

Maximus didn’t hesitate. “Ask your perfect Viola what she was doing last night with two guards in her bed—”

“Enough!” Mrs. Salvatore gasped. “How dare you say something so disgusting about your sister?”

“She’s not my sister,” Maximus shot back, eyes flashing. “She’s a spoiled, lying b—”

Before he could finish, the sound of a sharp slap cracked through the room.

Mrs. Salvatore’s hand trembled slightly as she lowered it, her face pale with rage and disbelief. “Don’t you ever call her that again,” she hissed. “Viola has been nothing but a blessing to this family You should be ashamed.”

Maximus stared at her, stunned—not by the slap, but by how quickly his loving mother had chosen sides.

He laughed bitterly. “You don’t even see it, do you?” His voice broke. “She fooled you all.”

And with that, he stormed out, the study door slamming shut behind him—leaving behind a silence.

Fiona had been passing by the study when she caught fragments of the heated argument—Maximus’s harsh words, her mother’s sharp slap, the slam of the door. Her heart clenched, torn between anger and sadness. Without a word, she slipped quietly after Maximus, her footsteps light as he stormed toward the garden.

She found him standing under the sprawling olive tree, his back to her, fists clenched at his sides, the morning sun casting long shadows. “Maximus,” she called softly, hesitant but desperate.

He didn’t turn at first. When he finally did, his eyes were stormy. “Fiona,” he said, voice low, “you don’t know what’s happening in there.”

“I want to,” she replied firmly. “We can’t keep tearing each other apart.”Fiona reached out, squeezing his hand. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

Viola who came to kitchen to have some water heard all the servant's gossiping about the small argument with her brother and parents thought this situation is in her favour...

Viola’s footsteps were light as she entered the sitting room, a sly grin curling on her lips. Her mother looked up, weary and anxious, unaware of the cunning spark in Viola’s eyes.

Viola said softly, folding her arms.maybe it’s time someone told you the truth.”

Mrs. Salvatore frowned, confused. “What truth, Viola?”

“The truth that he is the ones stirring trouble,” Viola continued smoothly. “Playing the victim while tearing this family apart. Maximus with his bitterness, acting like saints, but he is neither willing to see his own faults.”

Her mother’s eyes searched Viola’s face, doubt flickering for a moment. “Are you sure?He is your brother.”

Viola’s grin widened, but her voice was gentle, almost coaxing. “Exactly. Which is why I’m the only one who truly understands the danger he bring. You have to be careful who you trust mom”

and make sure dad has less contact with him in the future to avoid our family falling apart. Mrs. Salvatore blinked, unsettled but still holding onto her faith in her children.

saying this she walked away.

Unnoticed, Christopher, the family’s loyal butler, lingered just outside the sitting room door, his sharp ears catching every word Viola whispered to her mother. He furrowed his brow as Viola twisted the truth, painting Maximus as the villain in front of Mrs. Salvatore. Her sly grin, the ease with which she manipulated even their mother—it unsettled him deeply.

Why would Miss Viola do this? he wondered, a flicker of doubt and concern stirring in his mind. The weight of the family’s turmoil pressed heavier with each lie she spun.

Determined to understand, Christopher made his way quietly to the Don’s study. He found Mr. Salvatore pouring a drink, the older man’s face drawn and tired.

“Don Salvatore,” Christopher began cautiously, “I overheard Miss Viola speaking with the lady of the house… twisting things about Master Maximus. She seemed to be turning your wife against them.”

Mr. Salvatore sighed, setting down his glass. “Sibling jealousy. That’s all it is, Christopher. These children—blood or not—sometimes fight to claim what they think is theirs. Nothing new.”

Christopher nodded but couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him. “Yes, sir. But… I thought you should know.”

Mr. Salvatore gave a weary smile. “I appreciate your loyalty. Keep an eye on things, but don’t read too much into the noise. Families fight. It’s how they grow.”

As Christopher left the study, his mind raced. Maybe this was more than just jealousy. Maybe it was a game—and if so, it was one that could destroy them all