Meanwhile, Amelia climbed the stairs and entered a private wing of the villa. She reached a large wooden door and, with a soft knock, entered the room.
The atmosphere here was different—quieter, more sombre. The room was spacious yet cozy, with large windows offering a view of the gardens outside.
Her grandfather sat propped up in a bed near the window, his body frail and aged, his once-strong features now softened by the passage of time. But despite his weakened state, there was a noble air about him, a kind of quiet dignity that hadn't faded.
"Good afternoon, Grandpa," Amelia greeted warmly, her voice tender as she approached him. Her face softened with affection, but there was a hint of sorrow in her eyes as she saw him looking so weak.
