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Maria's Break-down
Last Updated:
2024-08-22 00:09:56Related chapters
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The three ladies weren't strangers to another, yet the atmosphere was discomfitingly suffocating for Maria and Octavia. The latter knew the extent her mother would go whenever it comes to her welfare except, things were misunderstood during the previous day. And the former — who just got a taste of a mother's wrath, was low-key intimidated and her fake veil of pride was tearing apart. “I contacted Lady Beth,” Catrina unexpectedly blurted, and both ladies batted their eyelashes. “What for?” Octavia questioned while arising from her seat, and a smile crept up her mother's lips. “Calling this young lady here Lady Theresa's future sister-in-law won't be a stretch, and since she passed out yesterday, it was only normal I contacted Lady Beth. She called back this morning, and informed us all to head to the Manor."“Why?” Maria sharply but lowly inquired. “An execution's about to begin at the Manor — your cousin's.” Seconds were all that was needed for that utterance to be comprehended,
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Was it ever mentioned in the Bible that devils were so…. Majestic?Tony, and Mary were uncertain, but currently the two had their pairs of eyes — including everyone's glued to the figures of the two blindingly gorgeous beings. The wistfulness coursing through Mary's veins ever since the arrest was quickly overshadowed by rage as her dark orbs glared so intently yet hatefully at the blond angel. The taste of immense rancor sprouted out of every bud on her tongue urged the bitterness of her mouth — every fiber of Mary's being was brimming with rage. Her eyes departed from the marble tiles the instant Tessa stepped in, and nothing — absolutely nothing existed as her glare persisted. She wasn't the sole one gawking at the stunning couple with exasperated eyes. Tony was shaking. His cuffed wrists, and balled fists quivered — the tightness of his clenched jaw prompted veins crawling on his bare skin, and the sclera of his eyes became a web of red, bloodshot lines. He was livid, and a
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Words truly were inferior to actions, and currently, every thought her mind created, and scornful utterances her lips sprouted centered on this majestic aged woman didn't tally with her action. Not in the slightest fucking bit. Francess did imagine herself snickering fearlessly at the sight of the illustrious Beth Ford. The defined European lady had her great deeds sprinkled across the world like sand over the Earth - many either were overjoyous to be in her present or numb caused by overwhelming intimidation. She was evidently experiencing the former. Francess' tongue knotted in her mouth, and her palms become sweaty then slightly shaky. “F-fuck.” In an attempt to comport herself, she fisted both hands then exhaled, trying to rid her body of its abrupt stiffness. Here in Killian's library - a place he mindlessly boasted of being his haven had unnervingly been occupied by this prominent woman. As the man of the house, the brown haired remained collected and his wife? Stephanie w
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Every passing second escalated his number of paces, and times his heart skipped a darn beat. Killian D'Arcy was unsettled — so verily troubled that the grayness of his hair dulled, bottom lip — constantly been chomped upon by the upper bleeding slightly, and eyes shaking unstably in their sockets. For a being that has lived for over 40 years, his system experienced this unwanted sensation twice. Once in Europe, and now, in his very own library in his mansion. This place was his sanctuary — his heaven. However, a demon; one so vile, and insidious that it's a task to tear a gaze from. She bore a name — Macbeth fucking Ford, and to God Killian hated her with every fiber in his being. Like a hurricane, she twirled aggressively yet so calmly into his abode and left — elegant, composed but caused so much damage. His family was in shambles. His apprehensive round of pacing came to a halt once quickened footsteps echoed in his ears, and with a head swerved, Killian beheld a maid. Her g
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As the sun's resplendent beams descended ceaselessly on the inhabitants of the beautiful Italian city, Milan basked in the little warmth it provided. Milan, a canvas of elegance for such a long time, has been continuously snow kissed by the early snows of the morning, and late noon became the sole opportunity the sun had to creep into the sky.Among the innumerable things, and beings its rays blessed, a group of undeniably distinguished individuals were involved. Regardless of the presence of a curved glass dome over their heads, the distant sounds of planes passing by draw her attention.“Wow…” Her head got lifted to the high glass ceiling, and her pair of green eyes managed to catch a glimpse of a jet soring past the sky. Debby was certain that it was the fifth jet slicing through the air within merely half an hour since she arrived at the five-star restaurant — Paradiso Terrestre with her family. “I wonder how far your jaw is going to drop once you see how many people are atten
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He was covered with more than blood. The prickling, hurtful sensation gliding throughout his body due to the presence of countless pieces of glass scattered everywhere on him eventually got noticed. The rush of adrenaline during his escape has faded, giving space for the appearance of agony. Tony looked fucked. His mere breathing sounded overly tortuous, and the prominent veins crawling all over his bloody skin got urged by pain. “Shit…” A low cuss erupted from his lips once his shaky fingers reached for possibly, and hopefully, the last piece of glass — a large chunk of it penetrating deeply in the elbow of his right hand. Under the deserted bridge, and during the early hours of such a wintry day, the sole, detestable individual bearing the notable Williams family name — Tony could be seen seated, heavily enervated on the dirty ground. Roughly, half a day elapsed after the once-in-a-lifetime twist of fate; that occurrence was downright unexpected. Regardless of the pains sur
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There was an unending smell in the air. It forced itself way deep into his nostrils and possibly into hers. It was sharp. Pungent. It was…“Fuel…?” As the tires of the car rolled over the graveled road, past the towering building and under the moon's lights, Tony, helpless to the smell he inhaled, muttered with an arched eyebrow. A canvas of uneasiness was painted on his face, with a bead of sweat snaking down his bandaged forehead — the giant chauffeur saw it. He stylishly glanced at him through the rare view mirror, then focused wholly on driving. “You've always looked shitty but today, you're more appealing.” A scrawl fell from her lips as her eyes remained on his clenched, trembling fists placed on his thighs. Something was terribly wrong with Tony, yet Mary considered that preposterous — why should any sane being act nervous after drowning in such bliss for the past days?Yes, the dark eyed once believed she'd pass the remnants of her days locked in a squalid cell but miracul
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Once her pair of feet ascended the last step which led to the highly revered stage of the Teatro alla Scala, her brown eyes shone brighter than a single star at midnight. Maria visibly was… Flabbergasted — so happily, tearfully flabbergasted. She wasn't the only one, too. As the Soloists and Principal Dancers needed for the Nut Bowl stepped onto the stage, each was evidently enveloped by the utter majesty of the stage. A stage where they'd perform in due time, and the HeadMistress, in charge of familiarizing them with it, helplessly smiled at their untamed display of amazement. However, as her attention moved from one dumbfounded individual to the other, Angelica's eyes fell on the Prima Ballerina then she sighed. “Oh Tessa!” While the rest moved across the stage, still soaking in its ethereal beauty, the stern Italian woman moved to the prized, overly talented yet… Saddened soloist. Unlike the rest, Tessa's portrayal of awe was short-lived since it took no less than some second
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His dark hair was perfectly styled, and his tailored black tuxedo accentuated his lean physique.With the first notes, Tessa launched into a whirlwind of movement and her feet barely touching the stage. Her tutu fluttered like a butterfly's wings, and her pointe shoes whispered against the floor. “Oh!”“Wow!”“Ha!”The audience entranced by the soft rustle of her skirt, the gentle creak of her shoes, and the sweet scent of rosin wafting from her movements helplessly gushed out loud. As she danced, the music swirled around her like a velvet cloak — enveloping her in a rich tapestry of sound. The notes of the celesta twinkled like stardust, and the violins sang with a soaring beauty that left the audience breathless.As she revealed her swan-shaped birthmark, Doreen's eyes became glassy and an uproar; one so deafening occurred. He smirked, knowing the significance of that mark, and he knew that his angel was revealing her true self to the world.The music swelled, and Tessa executed
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One would predict the atmosphere of a prison visitation room to be moderately tense. Especially when the inmate was one's birth mother, and got sentenced to prison for quite a significant time due to horrendous charges such as emotional manipulation, coercion, exploitation, and abuse of power. Alongside the rest, the father and twin brother. They've been thrown into prison for weeks. Yet, an ounce of that didn't linger either inhaled. Such calmness wasn't derived from the presence of two female guards stationed at the door, nor the solid glass barrier hindering the inmate from the prisoner. None of that was the cause of her composure — Francess had nothing to be troubled about when her dear friend, Tessa, was seated by her side. “Are you… anxious?” Both were settled on the worn out plastic chairs with backs and seats a shade of faded gray and her hand — placed on the counter got covered by a delicate one. It belonged to Tessa. Those blue eyes — warm and gentle, crinkled at the
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“How can you consider your son something like that when all I've done for that fucking company is given it my all?”“You're all isn't enough!”“And so is yours! You — my fucking mother, keeps demanding unattainable shit from me when you failed at a simple task years ago! Years ago, you caused Francess' memory loss and…”“Shut up Francisco!!” Killian screamed ear deafeningly — numerous veins become prominent, and crawling incessantly up his neck; just like his son. Amid the screams, Francess, mute soundlessly, glanced at a feverishly shivering Stephanie, and once their eyes met — for the first time in… Years ago, the brown-eyed saw something in her. Affection she never got from her wasn't caused due to hate or anything, just… Guilt. Stephanie once again began her frantic words to vomit, yet they hung in the air as Francess's gaze drifted away, her eyes clouding over like a stormy sky. The bound wrists, the arguing voices, the slick stage – everything faded into the background as me
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It ultimately did, and the restrictions of her hand; bounded behind by thickened ropes, sent more torrents of perplexity raining down her soul. “What's…”“… Happening!” The voice she heard before her consciousness choicelessly left her once more penetrated into Francess' ears from a different direction. Sharply, she glanced at one of the wings of the stage, and emerging from there was… Her family. The entirety of the D'Arcy were here. All donned such elegant clothing yet the atmosphere lingering around two out of three was questionable. While Francisco perpetually had a smirk dancing on his lips, and a printed document in his possession, Killian with his wife were unsettled. Unsurprisingly, Stephanie — her ever anxious mother would've slacked behind, but her husband's linked arm with hers prevented that. He ambled, head up, and eyes — which roamed with determination, tangled with a bit of regret were transfixed on his daughter. “What the fuck is going on here? What in hell's name
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There, she got her entire existence thoroughly questioned by her mind due to the massive effect that conversation had. Francess sincerely bore no idea how she got to the opulent junior suite of the Fords Palazzo Ducale. Currently, she laid — back flat, and eyes glued to the complexly designed ceiling of her room with mind thinking solely about Theresa Ford. “I… I came here because I needed answers and now… I'm…!” Her pairs of eyelids, reddish due to excess tears, and eyes sunken into their sockets reddened, blinked slowly while a sigh fell from her lips. “… Confused. So fucking confused!” Francess’ trembling hands reached for her face then flattened on it before inaudible sobs. She was exhausted from everything — of breathing, living, and life itself. She'd be a damn liar to claim life became draining once Tessa came into the Ballet Academy back at home — who was she kidding? Then, she'd constantly practice ballet while ignoring the presence of drugs in her meals. Daily intake o
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The few days spent — alone in the ancient of Milan entailed crisp air, and bone chilling winds. It always got freezing cold whenever night befall the beautiful city, and regardless of the hotness the heater of her suite provided, warmth clothing, and lengthy soak in hot baths, cold unceasingly engulfed her whole being. Tessa assumed she'd choicelessly, and all so adversely, grow accustomed to it, but… The good Lord answered her prayers. With arms thrown on his broad shoulders, fingers entwined — locked around his nape, and legs coiled over his torso, their bodies had no space between them. Basking in a bottomless ocean of comfort, Tessa certainly has never felt this…cozy before!“I'm fucking glad I'm here…” His words, whispered closely to her ear, had its accompanying warmth dissolving every ounce of chill in the bones, then wrapped itself so comfortingly around her heart. Not even the fireplace, residing beside them with its burning glow, could be equal to her beloved's warmth.
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Parting her thickened wet eyelashes, the beams of the moonlight seeping through the large framed window kissed her face as she sighed. So slowly, she properly began showering with mind torn between two unsettling topics — Doreen's absence and Francess' presence. No… It would've been swell if the two ballet dancers didn't meet — ever again. Back then — their past, although unresolved, wasn't so hurting Tessa; it was never this bad. Confrontations were a lethal catalyst; she assumed leaving Europe would prevent the scene that occurred a few hours ago but….“I should've never started dancing. Fuck!” Slamming her hand hard on the glass walls encasing her, frustration morphed into liquid, took the place of blood in her veins and circulated unwantingly yet unceasingly in her entire being. Back then, guilt was always beside her — making living hard, but gingerly, Tessa realized better than any she didn't feel guilty. She felt stupid for befriending the brown haired — Francesca D'Arcy on
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Memories poured into her mind in multitudes, and re-opening them, balls of tears snuck out then gilded slowly down her cheeks. “I wished never to be back here again but… Here I am.” Most ballet dancers would kill to step foot onto the stage of this neoclassical architectural masterpiece, and the passion which flamed it all had gone out in hers. The situation has changed — she has changed. Well, that was a few years ago. Tessa stared from the posh empty seats, curves of ornate balconies and boxes, then gaped longingly at the section for dignitaries. Adorned finely by crimson luster velvety and gold leaf, she chomped hard on her lips mere picturing her parents, and loved ones occupying it. Thousands were going to attend the Nut Bowl — thousands were going to be watching her with jaws dropped, stupor, and reverberation. Yet, it'll all be insignificant and downright unnatural if the one responsible for reigniting her fiery desire to dance once more isn't… Present. Tessa's gaze fell
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Once her pair of feet ascended the last step which led to the highly revered stage of the Teatro alla Scala, her brown eyes shone brighter than a single star at midnight. Maria visibly was… Flabbergasted — so happily, tearfully flabbergasted. She wasn't the only one, too. As the Soloists and Principal Dancers needed for the Nut Bowl stepped onto the stage, each was evidently enveloped by the utter majesty of the stage. A stage where they'd perform in due time, and the HeadMistress, in charge of familiarizing them with it, helplessly smiled at their untamed display of amazement. However, as her attention moved from one dumbfounded individual to the other, Angelica's eyes fell on the Prima Ballerina then she sighed. “Oh Tessa!” While the rest moved across the stage, still soaking in its ethereal beauty, the stern Italian woman moved to the prized, overly talented yet… Saddened soloist. Unlike the rest, Tessa's portrayal of awe was short-lived since it took no less than some second
