Amelia calmed her heart down and looked at her husband who was standing at the doorway. She spoke with full seriousness in her face, "Honey, we need to visit the East Village. We might find some answers there. Please honey."
"What about Brad? What will happen to our son? For God's sake Amelia, Brad is more important than some puny answers to satisfy our curiosity."
Amelia knew that it was futile to convince her husband, so she said, "Honey, you stay with Brad and I'll go find out the answers then."
Stephan looked at Amelia and said nothing. Amelia was unsure whether he agreed or not. Nevertheless, she went to their bedroom and immediately started packing her luggage. Stephan stood at the doorway and closely watched his wife. Suspicion arose in his heart, but he did not say anything.
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The East Village, Firenice Mansion:
An old woman was sitting on a chair, quite similar to the throne. She was chewing betel leaves, and her lips were stained red. A worker was sitting in the hallway in front of her and was fixing a portrait which looked centuries old. Wooden crumbs were strewn on the floor and he was polishing the new frame he made. 'What a nitpicker!' He thought in his heart, but was very afraid to say it aloud.
The old woman looked at the man and said, "What are you dillydallying for? Come on, work faster. Do you have rust in your joints? Faster. This portrait needs to be fixed by today itself. First of all, whenever I call your agency they say that they will send people soon, and they never sends one. Secondly, they send people like you. Lastly, will you move your hands a bit faster?"
The old woman was looking at the worker who was constantly polishing the same place in the portrait umpteenth times now. She wanted to bang his head on the wall. But, she would be charged by criminal laws, so, she couldn't do anything. She was sighing in her heart, when she saw that the young worker was eyeing an antique vase, which was kept at a corner of the hallway. She got up from her throne, and slowly walked towards the young worker, sarcastically smiled and questioned, "So, you want that vase, huh?" She was speaking softly at the beginning, but at the end, her voice became chilly, and she shouted, scaring off some crows in the courtyard. "So, you are eyeing that vase, right? Should I pluck off your eyes and feed them to crows?" Her high pitched and chilly tone made the young worker shiver in fright. He shook his head and said, "Please Mam, forgive me. I was just admiring that. I wouldn't dare to covet it, even if you gave me hundred guts."
The old woman nodded her head at the satisfactory answer. She circled the young worker and asked, "What's your name?"
"Mark."
"Mark what?"
"Mark Paluso, Mam."
"Hmm, Mark, what should I do with you?" She smiled gently and in the next moment, her mood turned 180-degrees as she hollered, "Why are you rubbing the same spot time and again? How many times do I have to tell you to work properly and faster? Do you think that I have enough time to spare on you?"
'You have.' Mark thought in his heart but did not have the courage to utter. Who knows what the crazy woman would do? It was better to work faster. With that thought in mind, Mark rubbed the portrait faster with another clean set of clothes. The lady went to the garden after shouting at him. She was carefully observing a butterfly fluttering over a pair of daisies.
Suddenly, Mark heard the sound of a pair of heels, which was clicking on the gravel passageway. He heard the lady exclaim, "Mum!"
The old lady turned her head and said, "My daughter, you came." The old lady hugged her daughter and said, "Did you miss your mother?"
"I missed you a lot, Mum. Is she not here yet?"
"No. But she is on her way. Let's go to the hallway and wait for her." The old lady adjusted her shawl and locked her arms with her daughter's and pulled her towards the open hallway.
"Take a seat, and let me bring something for you." Saying that the old lady went towards the kitchen leaving her daughter behind.
She sat on another chair placed adjacent to the throne and looked at Mark with an interesting expression on her face. Mark could not identify her thoughts. He was more intimidated by her gaze than her mother's. With one look, he understood that the lady in front of him was dangerous. Extremely dangerous. He lowered his head to polish the portrait more and more without looking at it. A sudden scream attracted his attention. He raised his head to see that person staring at him like that person was ready to bury him alive. Maybe more. He didn't know.