"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Aria's voice was barely a whisper, her fingers fiddling nervously with the silver chain around her neck.
Dante looked at her, his gaze steady, his eyes flickering with something dark yet protective. "I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't."
The tension in the air was palpable as they approached the looming gates of the Vale estate. This was the dinner—the night they'd both been dreading. The thought of standing in front of Dante's family, of facing their silent disdain and scrutinizing stares, made her pulse quicken with a mix of anticipation and dread.
As they stepped into the grand entryway, the oppressive weight of the Vale legacy surrounded them. Ornate paintings of long-gone ancestors lined the walls, their eyes seeming to follow her as she walked. Dante's hand on her back was the only thing grounding her, silently reassuring her she wasn't alone.
