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𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗟𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗙 𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗢𝗦 against the pristine marble floors and frenzied conversations (read: pathetic pleadings of a middle-aged man) is all one would hear if they were to enter the mansion that day.
"Per favore, perdonami, non l'ho mai pensato! Sono stato FORZATO, manipolato. mia dolce ragazza, ti amo e non lo farò mai. Per favore risparmiami-" the man all but cried.
[Please, forgive me, I never meant it! I was FORCED, manipulated... my sweet girl, I love you, and I will never do that. Please spare me-]
Pathetic.
The woman's cold and unforgiving eyes never seemed to waver to his words, only a slight twitch to her lips, indicating she was thoroughly bemused by his pleadings. Etiquette training from an infant, my ass-
Being the embodiment of poise and elegance that she was, she was respected. Feared, maybe, but respect was something that her entire presence demanded, and more often than not, received. The less unfortunate moments were never recounted as no one wished to earn the same ire as the mangled bodies of her offenders.
It was barbaric but beautiful. One-of-a-kind beauty some might say.
Despite that, she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the less-than-amusing, more likely-to-be-considered disgusting scene (read: she never truly complained about the mess she made while having fun with her precious daggers) in front of her.
A grown man in his late forties, grovelling at her feet pleading for mercy... not something she envisioned on a lovely Saturday evening. Her nail stylist will truly despise her now. Direct contact with dirty blood on freshly manicured nails is a nightmare.
With all the patience she could gather not to skin the man alive, she decided to put an end to his ramblings.
His voice was hurting her ears.
Maybe she should consider offering her victims a good meal with an ample amount of water so they would quit complaining about her loose morals, she mused.
"Quit blubbering you insolent fool. You are grating on my already-wearing patience. Honestly, you brag to me all about your private lessons in etiquette, yet you shamelessly kneel in front of me begging for forgiveness?" she scoffed, already tired of standing for nearly an hour, staring at him.
It was a pitiful sight, even for her, but she had to keep up appearances. If word were to spread about her fabulous self, imagine the blasphemy she would have to endure for the rest of her life, being called out for slacking during work.
She reminded herself to replace her stilettos with a more comfortable footwear. Later of course. Appearances are important.
The man realised his pleadings took him nowhere and resorted to his final choice.
Reopening healed wounds. (read: he truly is stupid.)
"You are evil." He said spitefully, pushing himself against the wall.
"That's where you find yourself right for once. You and others I am too lazy to list out, changed me." She hums unbothered, flicking her wand, summoning herself a comfortable leather seat.
She found the whole ordeal impertinent, but this man was a nuisance and needed to go.
He took her lack of response as his cue to continue, "What a shame you bring on their name, truly." He said mockingly, his lips jutting out.
She seemed to forget that this man was a master manipulator, a true ace in his game.
Emotions. Her weakness. But what can she do? She listened to her heart once more, rage clouding her eyes.
"Did you ever wonder what they might think of you? The ill intent that taints every inch of your soul? The way that, this, killed them both mercilessly?" He said his tone as though of a concerned paternal figure.
She scoffed; the role suited him too well.
"What would he say? Or better yet, what would she say? I must add-"
Those were the last words of Antonio Russo, which came out merely as choked syllables as a dagger found itself lodged in his neck.
Emotions, her weakness, his death.
"You talk too much I'm afraid. They are in a happy place, I promise you. Besides, I don't find how you of all people can comment, hmm? I am equally a Potter, as I am a Romano, Zio. They might have been a disappointment to the name, but me?" She trailed off, her red lips pulling into a wide grin, "I will restore it to its former glory, maybe even better, hmm?" She pulled him closer by his collar, whispering the last few words with malice lacing each word,
"Why don't you let go now? Let the world flourish, sit aside and watch." She smiled sweetly, plunging the dagger in deeper before pulling it out just as swiftly.
He fell limp on the floor, his hands desperately reaching up to the wound, trying to close it. Alas, all attempts seemed to be futile as his body stopped thrashing, his hands falling with an audible thud.
"It did not have to be this way Carrisimo Zio, I honestly expected better from you, but seems like my expectations have once again gone down the drain... "she murmured, her tone ashamed.
Ashamed that she lost control and killed the man far too quickly, all because of his words. Those damned whispers of manipulation still make her lose control so easily.
Despite the transgressions she harboured towards her flaws, she watched with sick satisfaction as his blood coloured the white marble floor with striking crimson; the life draining out of his eyes.
She knew she was bad, but she was far too deep into the rabbit hole to hop back up.
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𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗜'𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗘 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗦:
Hello, my beautiful peopleeeeeee~
How y'all been? All good I suppose? I really hope so. This is an interlude of sorts, where I'd probably share something about the chapter? Or maybe even rant, lol.
I have entered my Harry Potter phase again and came up with a plot. I swear it sounded cool in my head, and hopefully, I can deliver the same :)
hiiidc, this chapter's for you<3 Cheer up my love, I'm sure we can figure something out, I promise, kay? Now enjoy the chapter folks, I'll see you soon with the next chapter :))
Eat well, sleep well, drink enough water and take breaks. You are beautiful inside and out, don't let anyone say otherwise <3
