Inheritance Redefined

Chapter Five

The car ride to Milan was quiet, but not uncomfortable.

Elara sat with her hands folded in her lap, her dress fluttering slightly at her knees as the car cut through winding roads. The sunlight streamed through the window, catching on the soft embroidery and the tips of her hair.

Alessandro didn't speak. He sat across from her in the back seat, scrolling through something on his phone, the sharp angle of his jaw set in thought.

Elara wasn't sure what she had expected - maybe more questions, maybe awkward small talk - but silence suited them both just fine.

Still, her chest ached with nerves. Not because she was scared of him, not exactly, but because this was the first time anyone in her new life other than her mother had seen her. Really seen her.

Not as someone they had to put up with.

Not as some wierd freak, as she used to be called by her former classmates.

But as someone with something worth saving.

They arrived in Milan just before one. The streets were clean and sun-drenched, with buildings framed by cobblestone alleys and terracotta rooftops. Their destination was tucked on a narrow side road. Casa Agnelli was carved in gold above a dark wooden door.

Inside the shop, it smelled like cedar and fabric softener. Every wall gleamed. Every blade was displayed like a weapon.

Elara moved through the shop slowly, running her fingers over the polished shelves and soft jackets. Her old skates were back at the estate, worn nearly to the bone.

A quiet clerk approached. "Buongiorno signora. Are you looking to compete or to train?"

Elara blinked and then smiled. "Train. But I used to compete."

The woman smiled. "Then we'll find you something worthy of that memory."

Alessandro watched from near the counter, arms folded, eyes narrowed, not critically, just out of habit. Elara wasn't what he had imagined, and he knew it. Every now and then his gaze dropped to her hands, the way she tested the stiffness of a new boot or bent a blade slightly between her palms to feel its give.

She didn't ask for anything showy. She chose deep navy gloves, a few simple training outfits that were all mostly black, leg warmers, a skate bag that zipped cleanly shut, blade gaurds, soft soakers and a few off-ice training essentials. Elegant. Minimal. Everything about her choices said discipline, not decoration.

When the clerk gave the total, Alessandro didn't blink. He pulled out a black card, handed it over, and said, "Add two more pairs of tights and a spare sharpening kit."

Elara blinked up at him.

"Why?"

"Because you'll need them," he said, like it was obvious.

---

The rink was twenty minutes outside the city. Tucked behind a museum, it looked more like an art gallery from the outside - all clean glass and polished stone. No music played inside, just the steady hum of cold air and quiet.

A beautiful woman stood near the rink's edge, wearing a black coat, boots and her blonde hair was pinned in a tight twist.

"Elara," she greeted warmly. "I'm Coach Nina Marchesi. I'm your new coach."

Elara adjusted her skate bag on her shoulder. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too. I saw some of your old figure skating videos from London. I can see you have lots of raw talent. There is some work we have to do, but I am sure you will do excellently. Why don't you go get changed and then we can see what level you are on. The changing area is just around the corner."