Dante hadn't seen his mother in years. His relationship with her had always been strained, overshadowed by the business and the responsibilities he had taken on. Matilda Moretti had been a presence in his life—strong, unyielding, and always keeping the family's interests above all else. Her absence in recent years had been a result of her stepping back from the family's affairs, but Dante knew that her influence never truly left.
It was early one morning when Dante received the call. Matilda was coming to visit. His first instinct was to decline, but he knew better than to deny her. He couldn't afford the consequences of such a decision.
As the day wore on, Dante found himself growing more anxious. He tried to prepare, though nothing truly prepared him for the moment when Matilda stepped through the doors of the mansion.
She was everything he remembered and more—tall, regal, with an air of grace that made her seem untouchable. Her sharp, calculating eyes never missed a thing. She wore a tailored coat, her demeanor cold but composed.
Amelia had been in the garden, lost in thought, when Eva informed her that Dante's mother had arrived. Her heart skipped a beat at the news. She hadn't heard much about Matilda, other than her reputation as a woman who never let anything—or anyone—get in her way.
The Encounter
Amelia stood frozen for a moment as Matilda entered the room. The tension in the air was palpable. Amelia had no idea what to expect from Dante's mother. From what little she knew, Matilda was someone who commanded respect. It wasn't just her title as matriarch of the Moretti family that made her feared, but her sharp mind and her ability to manipulate the strings of power.
Dante stood next to his mother, though the bond between them seemed distant, strained. He had always been the more independent son, refusing to bow to the pressure she had put on him in the past.
Matilda's eyes scanned the room before landing on Amelia. There was no warm greeting, no welcoming smile. Just a cold assessment. Amelia felt herself tense, unsure of how to behave.
"Mrs. Moretti," Matilda said, her voice smooth but filled with authority. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
Amelia bowed her head slightly, trying to compose herself in front of the woman who had raised the man she had married. "The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Moretti."
Matilda's gaze was unwavering. "I hope you've been taking good care of Dante. He's been... distracted recently."
Dante shifted uncomfortably at his mother's words, but he didn't speak. Amelia, sensing the tension, stepped forward. "I've been doing my best. I care about Dante very much."
Matilda's lips twitched into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm sure. But I'm here to ensure that things are done properly. You see, Amelia," she paused, her tone darkening, "in our world, appearances are everything. And you are now a part of this world. A very important part."
Amelia's heart skipped. She could feel the weight of Matilda's gaze on her, the silent judgment. She didn't know if she was meant to be intimidated or if this was simply how Matilda operated.
The conversation took an even more uncomfortable turn when Matilda's sharp eyes landed on Amelia, as though she were trying to measure her up like a prize on display.
She studied her son and his wife, her gaze shifting between them before her lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. Amelia felt the weight of her stare, but it wasn't just scrutiny—there was something else in her mother-in-law's expression. A challenge.
"You've been married for over a year now, Amelia," Matilda began, her voice smooth yet filled with an underlying edge. "And as we both know, the Moretti legacy must be carried on. So... when can we expect our first grandchildren?"
The question hung in the air, a knife cutting through the already tense atmosphere.
Amelia felt her cheeks burn as she looked over at Dante, who had gone stiff beside her. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, she feared that Matilda's words would send him into another silent, brooding spell.
Amelia tried to maintain her composure, her voice barely above a whisper. "We've been... focused on other things, Mrs. Moretti."
Matilda's eyes narrowed slightly, her smile never faltering. "Focus on what, exactly?" she asked, her words dripping with pointed curiosity. "You're married. Your duty as a wife is clear. I would think by now, you two would have... well, I'm sure you understand what I mean."
Dante shifted uncomfortably, his hands balled into fists at his sides, but he said nothing. His mother's words stung, and it was clear he didn't know how to handle the situation either.
Amelia could feel the pressure mounting. She could feel Matilda's gaze bearing down on her, almost daring her to falter. But there was something in the way she phrased it, something calculating, as if her purpose was not just to put Amelia in a difficult position, but to provoke Dante too.
"Mother, that's enough," Dante said finally, his voice low but firm. He shot a look at his mother, but Matilda didn't flinch.
"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Dante," she replied smoothly, her tone still sweet but now laced with sarcasm. "I'm merely suggesting it's time for the Moretti family to expand. You've both been living in this bubble of yours, but the world waits for no one. We have work to do."
Amelia glanced at Dante again, unsure of how to proceed. She didn't want to overstep, but Matilda's relentless pressure was too much to ignore. Dante, who usually held a wall of ice around his emotions, seemed momentarily rattled by his mother's words.
"I'm not in a hurry, Mother," Dante said, his voice quieter now. "There's time."
Matilda raised an eyebrow. "Time?" she repeated, her tone hinting at disbelief. "Dante, time is the one thing we don't have. It's why you need to start prioritizing what truly matters. Your family, your future, your legacy."
Her words stung. Amelia was starting to feel suffocated by the expectations that weighed on her. But in a strange way, they also made her reflect on her own desires. Was she ready for children? Would she be able to handle the responsibilities of motherhood in this world?
But before she could voice her thoughts, Matilda turned to her once again, offering a final, cutting remark.
"Your marriage is just as much about making sure our name lives on as it is about 'love,' Amelia. Don't forget that."
The weight of her words seemed to echo throughout the room, leaving Amelia feeling small, uncertain, and almost suffocated. She wasn't just a wife to Dante. She was part of the Moretti legacy, and now, the pressure of carrying that legacy—of bearing children—had just been thrust into the spotlight.
Dante, sensing the tension between them, finally broke the silence, his voice softer now. "We'll talk about this later, Mother. Not now."
Matilda said nothing more, but her eyes held a knowing glint, as if she had already won. She stood up and, with one last look at both Dante and Amelia, made her way toward the door.
"Remember, Amelia," she said, pausing just before leaving the room. "You have a duty. The family will be watching."