Hel & Veritas

The Fire

Notebook? Check. A vibrant red, naturally.

Pencils? Check. Neatly sharpened, a rainbow of colors, though she knew she’d likely only use a few shades of graphite today.

Hershey's bar? Double check. Tucked safely in her bag, a small, familiar comfort for any unexpected dips in energy or morale.

Her second favorite scrunchie? Double check? She ran a hand through her dark, chocolate brown hair that she inherited from her mama, currently secured with her absolute favorite – a plush, crimson velvet one. The second favorite, a simpler red silk, was nestled in her pocket, just in case. Red, always red. It wasn't just a color; it was an extension of herself.

Water, wallet? Check, check. The water bottle, also a sleek red, felt reassuringly weighty. Her wallet, a supple red leather, held her ID and a few crisp dollar bills – the first of her independent life in America.

Finally, a small, satisfied smile touched her lips. Fiorenza Angelo, all five-foot-five of her, with her fair skin kissed by a hint of rose, and the emerald green eyes she’d inherited like precious gems from her father, was officially ready for work. A nervous flutter danced in her stomach, a counterpoint to the overwhelming excitement thrumming through her veins. Today was the day. Her first day as a resident doctor at the legendary Volga Group. It felt surreal, a dream she’d nurtured since she was thirteen, glued to the television screen, watching the medical titan, Xenia Mikhailov, his voice calm and assured after a seemingly impossible surgery that had saved the Russian president. That moment, the sheer brilliance and quiet power he exuded, had ignited an unshakeable fire within her. Now, at twenty-two, having relentlessly pursued her goal, even skipping five grades to earn her medical degree at twenty-one, she stood on the precipice of her dream.

The Volga Group’s reach spanned the globe, offering her the comfortable option of starting her career in Paris, nestled safely under the wings of her adoring parents. But the allure of learning from the very best, from the enigmatic medical titan himself, had been too strong to resist. And Xenia Mikhailov, the man who had unknowingly set her life’s course, primarily operated from the New York hospital, a towering institution that was also the largest in the world.

Being the cherished only child of Christopher Angelo, the sharp-witted owner of a prestigious Parisian law firm, and Rebecca Donati Angelo, the iconic supermodel turned visionary fashion designer and owner of the globally renowned luxury brand Aether, Fiorenza had known a life steeped in love and unwavering support. Perhaps a little too much support, especially from her papa, whose overprotective nature had been a constant, if endearing, presence. Except for her years at university, he’d rarely let her out of his sight. It was a testament to his vigilance that, at twenty-two, her romantic life remained…well, non-existent. The idea of her moving to New York had initially sent him into a tailspin of worry, but Fiorenza, armed with her formidable will and the undeniable power of her wide, green, puppy-dog eyes, had eventually worn him down. Her mama, though equally sad to see her go, had been a little more understanding, recognizing the burning ambition in her daughter’s heart. The compromise was a two-year stint in New York, after which she would return to France to continue her practice. Her paternal grandparents, Nonno Carlo and Nonna Sofia, were her absolute biggest cheerleaders, their phone calls filled with enthusiastic pronouncements of her brilliance and constant reminders of how proud they were. They’d even tried to slip her extra Euros when she’d visited, whispering conspiratorially about needing “emergency gelato funds” in America. However, the other side of her family remained a closed book. Her mother had severed all ties with her own parents the day before she married Christopher, a deep-seated rift that was never discussed, leaving a silent, unspoken space in their family history.

As a parting gift, her parents had showered her with tokens of their affection: a chic condo overlooking Central Park, a meticulously curated new wardrobe filled with stylish outfits that flattered her confident, pear-shaped figure – clothes that celebrated her curves rather than hiding them – and, the ultimate indulgence, her very own cherry-red Mercedes G-Wagon, gleaming like a freshly picked cherry, her absolute favorite fruit. The sweet, slightly tart taste of cherries always brought a smile to her face. She was impeccably set up before she even inhaled her first breath of American air.

Despite the excitement of this new chapter, a pang of homesickness often tugged at her heart. Her days were punctuated by frequent phone calls with her parents, their voices a comforting anchor in this unfamiliar city. Speaking of which, her phone buzzed, displaying a video call request from “La Famiglia,” her cherished family group chat. A smile bloomed on her face as she tapped ‘accept,’ sinking onto the plush red sofa in her living room. It was likely their lunchtime in Paris, six hours ahead, making it just before 8:00 am in New York.

“Ciao mamma, ciao papà!” she greeted them, her voice bright.

Her father’s sigh was audible even through the digital connection. Her mother, ever radiant, smiled back, though Fiorenza could detect a subtle shadow of sadness in her green eyes – the longing for one of their daily hugs.

“You see, mio caro,” her papa grumbled playfully to her mama, a hint of theatrical despair in his voice, “how this little cherry of mine is positively beaming, being so far away from her papa?” Her mama chuckled, a warm, familiar sound, while Fiorenza pouted at her father, widening her green eyes in mock offense.

“It’s okay, Chris. il nostro piccolo bambino worked so hard to be here today,” her mama said softly, her gaze filled with pride. “I know you are going to do so great, mio piccolo fuoco.” Her lower lip trembled slightly, a familiar sign of her barely suppressed emotions. Her parents were her rock, her unwavering support system, especially her mama. Fiorenza knew her journey with her body hadn’t always been easy. After puberty, her figure had blossomed, settling into a distinct pear shape. Growing up as the daughter of one of the most celebrated supermodels of all time, she’d initially harbored anxieties, a fear of disappointing her effortlessly chic mother. But before those doubts could take root, her mama had stepped in, her love and acceptance a powerful balm. It was then that Rebecca had conceived the idea for Aether. It wasn’t just another high-end luxury brand; it was a celebration of all body types, a testament to the inner strength that lay within every woman, often hidden beneath layers of societal expectations. Fiorenza would never forget the emotional opening ceremony, her mother’s voice ringing with conviction as she declared that Aether was about empowering women to embrace their unique beauty. And later that night, her parents had created a cozy haven in her room, a makeshift bed on the floor piled high with blankets and pillows, surrounded by all her favorite snacks, a silent promise that her worth was immeasurable, regardless of her dress size. These movie nights were a cherished tradition, often featuring her mother’s incredible lasagna, a dish Fiorenza had painstakingly learned to replicate, their shared love of cooking another strong thread in their bond.

“Grazie mamma!” she whispered, her own eyes misting over. Her mother’s teary smile mirrored her own. “Okay, no more tears, it’s your first day, mi bambina, you can’t be late!” her mama reminded her, her voice regaining its usual cheerful tone.

After exchanging heartfelt goodbyes, Fiorenza hung up, a renewed sense of purpose settling within her. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, her green eyes sparkling with anticipation. She was absolutely, unequivocally positive that this was the dawn of her journey, the first step towards becoming the great surgeon she knew she could be.

Only if she knew… the intricate, dangerous web she was about to step into, a world where the brilliance of healing masked a darkness she couldn't yet imagine, a world where the man who inspired her dreams held secrets that would shatter her innocent perception of him.