Inheritance Redefined

Chapter Four

The next morning, Elara didn't go near the kitchen.

She wasn't in the mood to be glared at like she was broken. Instead, she slipped through one of the side doors and wandered through the garden. After wandering about for a bit, Elara sat down under a citrus tree. The estate stretched wide around her - too perfect, too silent. Elara missed the racket of buses and the sound of skate blades carving into ice.

She pulled her knees to her chest and tried to breathe.

"You always run off to hide when you break things? You haven't been out of your room since yesterday."

The deep voice was smooth but carried an edge - the kind of edge that made Elara's spine straighten before she turned.

Alessandro, her new stepfather, stood a few feet away. Black shirt, sleeves rolled, eyes unreadable. He looked like he'd already taken control of the world.

Elara's throat tightened. She didn't answer.

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, like someone who'd learned early in life that silence could be more dangerous than shouting.

"You don't clean up in this family to be helpful," he said. "You do it because you owe something."

Elara met his gaze, even though her heart thudded in her chest. "I wasn't trying to impress anyone.

"No," he agreed. "You weren't. That's what's so intriguing about you."

He let the words hang in the air, then moved to sit beside her.

They sat in silence.

Elara stared straight ahead. If he wanted to scare her, fine. She was already tired of feeling like a ghost in someone else's house.

"I was just trying to do something right, to be helpful" she said finally. "That's all."

Alessandro didn't speak. The quiet pressed in.

Then he said, "You miss London?"

She blinked, surprised by the shift. "Yeah. More than I thought I would."

"What did you do there? What were your hobbies?"

"Skated. That's basically all I used to do." Elara paused. "Figure skating."

He nodded once, slowly. "And now?"

"No rink. And my skates are falling apart. We weren't as rich as you are, you know." Elara tried making a joke.

Alessandro looked away, jaw tight. He didn't say anything for a long while.

Then, "I'll fix that."

Elara turned toward him, unsure what she'd heard. "What?"

"I'll get you back on the ice. Training, coaching, all of it." His tone was flat, almost bored. "There's a rink in Milan. I'll make a call."

She stared at him. "Why?"

He finally looked at her again. This time, there was something unreadable in his expression - not cold, exactly, but cautious. As if kindness was a language he didn't speak fluently.

"Because you need something that's yours," he said. "And because I don't like seeing people rot."

Elara hesitated. "That's... really generous."

He raised an eyebrow at that. Never in Alessandro's life did he think he would be called generous. Alessandro was not known as a genetous man, yet, here was a girl telling him he was generous.

She smiled faintly. "Thank you."

He turned to leave, then paused without looking back. "If you skate like you mean it... maybe people here will finally stop underestimating you. Be ready at midday. We'll go buy what you need."

And with that, he walked off - silent, dangerous, and just slightly less unknowable than before.

Elara let out a slow breath.

He was still terrifying.

But maybe he wasn't as bad as he wanted people to believe.

---

The clock in the hall struck twelve-fifty when Elara finally stepped back into the house. She didn't know what to wear, didn't know where they were going exactly, or what Alessandro would expect.

So, Elara decided to wear one of the few dresses she had, a beautiful yellow sundress with thin shoulder straps, a sweetheart neckline, and a gently cinched waist that flared into a soft, flowing skirt - the fabric light as air, patterned with tiny embroidered daisies that caught the sunlight with every step.

By the time she reached the front steps, the car was already waiting - sleek, black, silent. The driver nodded at her, said nothing, and opened the door. Elara thanked him as she climbed in.

Alessandro was already inside.

He didn't look at her. Just spoke without glancing up from his phone.

"You're late."

Elara checked her watch. It was 11:59.

She smiled. "Technically, I'm early."

He glanced at her then - briefly - then nodded once.

"Good. Let's go."

And just like that, she was off to Milan with a man who scared her more than anyone she'd ever met - and who had just given her the first piece of herself back. Her new stepfather.