Alessia
The soft knock at my door came just as I was tying my school tie in a loose knot, the one that always annoyed Francesca. Her voice filtered through the wood, overly sweet and faintly commanding, “Alessia, come to my room. I need a word with you before you leave for school.”
I rolled my eyes. What now? Francesca’s requests were never as simple as they seemed. Still, I grabbed my bag and headed down the hall, letting my sneakers squeak on the polished floor just to irritate her.
Her room, like the rest of the mansion, was impeccable. Too clean. Too perfect. Francesca’s scent—a mix of roses and sharp citrus—lingered in the air. She was standing by her vanity table, rifling through a drawer. The morning light streaming in from the window framed her in an almost angelic glow, but I
