Anger.Every individual in the interrogation room of the city's police station had that emotion coursing through their veins. Yet, it varied. While Mr. and Mrs. Ford, the former president of a renowned European country, glared hotly at Tony, Doreen, his Uncle was… Composed. It'd be as rare as an eclipse to witness Doreen William display any ounce of feelings publicly. Only a few people were chanced to see such, and this lanky brown-eyed man would never be involved. Tessa, however, was angry — at herself. “I… I ca-caused the death of… Her… Child?” Unbridled guilt, incredulousness and a burning inferno of rage for herself shrouded her. They were so heavy it brought her to her knees. “Theresa!” Beth, her mother, sharply moved to her daughter once she went on her knees. Tessa's body trembled feverishly, and for once, Tony witnessed his frigid uncle glance at someone with worry, concern, and fear. Still, Doreen merely clenched his fists so hard that unruly veins snaked on his hands,
Never has she been this… Anxious!The head mistress of the Ballet Academy, the ever strict Italian middle-aged woman, Angelica, was verily unsettled. An hour or two were left for the day to meet noon yet the star student — selected by W Empire to dance in the most prominent dance event of all time — the Nut Bowl — Tessa was yet to arrive. Angelica wasn't worried about her lateness but her well-being. Within the previous night, and earlier today, the Head Mistress received a phone call from Doreen William. He informed her about the bloody altercation between his beloved girlfriend, Tessa, and the once pregnant soon to be wife of Tony William, Mary. Angelica was awestruck. “I knew letting that idiot into the Academy was a bad idea! Lord help me!”Currently, she was in the class of the senior ballet dancers, and yes, her mental breakdown and unstopped pacing has been watched by all. While most gawked upon her curiously, Maria was silent. The brown-eyed daughter of the now imprisone
“Octavia dear, what's the matter? Y'know, you can always tell your mother everything. Right?”The aged woman with short luscious crimson red hair, Mrs. Catrina — Octavia's mother, coaxed softly. It was a few minutes past noon, and unarguably, something troubled her daughter. She showed hints of uneasiness throughout the previous night, but currently, it was hellishly clear. Catrina's health was on the verge of being fully better — the paleness of her complexion ceased to exist, and her once chapped lips were now incessantly stretched into a smile. Although the doctors here advised another day should be spent here to run a few more tests, Catrina was too concerned about her unsettled daughter. The duo was seated on the spacious bed of the ward — while Octavia sat at its edge with red eyes transfixed on her phone, her mother sat upright but constantly leaned into the soft pillows. Her hand reached for her daughter's, and at the contact, she broke her gawk from her phone. “M-mum?”
As slowly as a crawling snail, his eyelids parted and the doctor expectantly ought to behold either his medical desk or the ceiling of his room. But none of that came into sight — instead, bountiful fear seeped greatly into his soul. The middle-aged gynecologist — still wearing his lab coat was being… Hung upside down!“Wh-wh-what is happening?” His lips wobbled as his head swayed from one side to another rapidly. His eyes traveled shakily upwards only to be cursed by the sight of his ankles bounded firmly with thick ropes. His wrists too were also tightly bound, and the ropes dug achingly into his skin. “He-he-help me!” Abruptly, the gynecologist acknowledged the multiple sobs emanating from varying directions. He directed his gaze to a side, and his eyes became widened due to surprise at the sight of his personal nurse. “Liana!?” The young nurse, cladded in her medical attire, was also trapped in the same situation as he. The call of her name wasn't heard since her sobs were t
Most would expect her to dread such a meeting. The unwholesome relationship between the youngest offspring of the Williams family, and his father was as clear as crystal. The atmosphere predictably might be choking, and awkward, but Tessa already has a plan. And finally, it was noon. “Tessa! I can see their car! — They're here!” A shriek was heard from downstairs, and it undoubtedly came out of Sophia's lips. A few hours ago, the two returned to the penthouse to prepare the meals, and regardless of how quick Tessa considers hers, she undeniably needed help. Sophia, the maid, regarded a close friend unfailingly aided, and together, both thrived in making several meals. “Really? They're 30 minutes early. Fuck… I'll be down in a minute!” Although her yell wasn't as raucous as Sophia's, Tessa was certain she heard her. Again, she averted her eyes back to her reflection from the full-bodied mirror in the room she shared with Doreen. She was dressed in a chic fitted trouser, and a si
Only her facial expression differed in the ward, and sincerely, Debby couldn't give a flying fuck. She was undesirably in the ward of someone she genuinely resents — her unwelcomed soon to be sister-in-law — a bitch — Mary. It was expected of every member of the Williams family to be disheartened at the fact the very first great-grandchild was lost. Mrs. Valentine — the first son's wife, and life giver of the first grandchild, was unimaginably furious. “Robert and I won't rest until we throw that wretch into hell! She'll fucking pay!” The aged woman — livid, had her cheeks beet red due to rage as she stomped her feet seriously on the tiled floor. Here in Mary's ward, the injured predictably occupied the sole queen-sized bed. This wasn't a regular ward, since Mrs. Valentine insisted on transferring her supposed daughter-in-law into a more lavish, capacious one. It was done unhesitatingly, and seated on one of the couches was the youngest grandchild of the Williams family — Debby.
“Don't touch me, you ass!” Tony basically slapped Mary's hand off, and not even the pain circulating through it broke their hateful eye contact. “Then talk! Tell me Tessa suffered last night! That bitch has to — she has! Even with those darn blood pallets, I did bleed when she fucking pushed me off the escalator! That shit hurts, and I must get my reward!”“Stop yelling. You're acting like you really were pregnant — a pebble could never grow in that wombless stomach of yours anyway."Mary's eyes sparkled in vexation, but again their conversation was halted when the bathroom's door was opened, and the nurse emerged. “Will you get the fuck out of here already!? Get out!” The abruptness of such an aggressive, and unarguably furious, yell got the cleaner flinching. “S-sorry!” She scurried around momentarily, then swiped her phone off the floor. Her feet moved swiftly, and soon, she was out of that bitch's ward. The cleaner's hurried steps didn't stop until she passed a couple of wards
The limitless serenity the garden provided assumingly would be enough to lessen the tension circulating throughout those seated around the dining table. But… That wasn't in the case. Tension undeniably mounted once father, and son occupied different seats — everyone could feel it. The Fords weren't oblivious of the lack of peace between Charlie Williams, and his last offspring, yet both thought — hoped it'd vanish. Tessa had an inkling that was utterly impossible. Well, not immediately but gradually, and she had laid out a perfect plan to eradicate any bad blood between Doreen, and his father. “The blend of these white tulips, roses, and dandelions are simply wonderful!” Beth gushed, deeply awestruck at the sight of the large vase which had beautiful flowers sticking out of it. “Thank you so much Doreen.” The aged woman's attention was entirely on it, and he smiled lightly at her. “I'm relieved you find them so admirable, Mrs. Ford.” His husky voice came as utterly charming — i
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
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
“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
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
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
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.
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
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
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