CHAPTER SIX
By the time Danelle returned to the Da Vinci mansion with her children, the sky was already dark, painted in shades of indigo and bruised purple. Her car rolled to a gentle stop at the grand circular driveway, the gravel crunching beneath the tires. The house stood tall and quiet, almost too quiet for the hour.
As she cut the engine and stepped out, Ethan was the first to open his door, followed by Olivia, and then Eva who moved a little more slowly than usual. Danelle glanced at her with a mother's instinct, silently making a mental note to talk to her later.
They walked up the marble steps together, and the moment Danelle pushed open the door, she was greeted by an unusual sight. Several people were seated in the living room — not the entire family, but a small, curious cluster: Grandma Camilla, Erika, and Marla.
Marla?
Danelle's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Marla rarely set foot in the Da Vinci mansion unless something was brewing. That woman treated the estate like it had fleas unless there was drama to feast on.
Before she could say a word, the triplets ran forward in excitement.
"Grandma!" they squealed in unison.
Camilla's stern expression immediately softened as she opened her arms wide. "Oh my sweethearts," she cooed, wrapping them in a warm hug. "I missed you three so much."
She ruffled their hair lovingly as they giggled, their laughter bringing a rare softness into the thick atmosphere.
"I bet you had fun today," she said, and the kids nodded rapidly.
"Hi Grandma," Danelle greeted as she leaned in and kissed her cheek, her voice more measured. Her eyes, however, were not on Camilla — they swept the room, assessing Erika's smug grin and Marla's thinly-veiled disdain.
"Rosa," Camilla replied with a familiar warmth. "Why don't the children go to their room and wait for me? I want to hear all about their adventures."
"Yay!" Ethan shouted, grabbing Olivia's hand. Eva followed close behind, throwing a cheerful wave back at her mother as they ran up the stairs.
Camilla watched them go, her smile fading as soon as the kids were out of sight.
Erika and Marla didn't bother to hide the way they rolled their eyes.
Danelle stood with her arms folded. She recognized the tension. Something was about to go down.
"What's going on?" she asked, her voice calm but firm. She turned her eyes to Camilla, whose expression now held a trace of worry.
But before the older woman could speak, Marla shot up from her seat like a rattlesnake.
"Oh, since Camilla won't speak up, I'll help her out," she snapped, folding her arms dramatically. "How dare you threaten my daughter today at work?"
Danelle arched a brow. There it was.
"She came home today, nearly in tears," Marla continued, stalking closer. "Said you threatened to fire her. Who do you think you are?"
Danelle remained still, unfazed. She glanced at Camilla briefly, then back to Marla.
"Perhaps you should ask your daughter to tell you the full story before baring your fangs."
"Oh please," Marla sneered, "this company existed long before you appeared in our lives. You're just some poor girl from Damilton with a sob story and three bastards in tow—"
"Careful," Danelle cut in, her voice quiet but lethal.
"You have no right to speak to me like that," Marla shouted. "You only got this far because your real parents pity you!"
Danelle's jaw tightened. "Tell your daughter to stay in her lane, and I won't have a reason to check her again. I don't go around starting fires, Marla. But I'm not afraid to burn someone if I have to."
"How dare you speak back to me! I'm old enough to be your mother!"
"Then maybe act like it," Danelle replied coldly. "Start by teaching your daughter how to mind her business."
Erika, who had been silent until now, gasped.
Marla, in fury, raised her hand to slap her—but Danelle caught her wrist mid-air, eyes burning.
"Try that again, and I'll make sure it's the last time you lift a hand at anyone in this house," she said, pushing Marla back. The older woman stumbled slightly, caught by Erika.
"You little peasant," Erika snarled. "How dare you—"
"That's enough, Erika!" Camilla's voice thundered through the room. Everyone froze.
"Take your mother and leave. Now."
"But Grandma—"
"Now."
Erika huffed, her eyes boring into Danelle. "You'll regret this," she muttered before guiding her mother out of the room.
Danelle didn't respond. She only watched them leave, then slowly turned to Camilla.
"I'm sorry you had to see that—"
"That's not why we're here," Camilla interrupted, her tone shifting. "There's something else on my mind. Something… urgent."
Danelle frowned. "What is it?"
"It's about the company."
Danelle blinked. "Which company?"
"Da Vinci Co. in Damilton."
Her heart stilled for a second. Damiliton. That cursed city.
"What about it?"
"There's been trouble. A string of management issues, employee walkouts, legal troubles. The board is losing confidence, and the investors are slipping."
"And why are you telling me this?" Danelle asked, voice tight.
"Because it needs a leader. A real one," Camilla said gently. "Someone capable. Someone with fire."
Danelle took a step back, her jaw clenched. "Send Erika."
"She knows nothing about how to run a company. You do. You've proven it."
There was a pause.
"I want you to go back and take over operations there," Camilla said quietly.
Danelle's heart pounded in her chest. Go back? To Damilton? That town held every nightmare she had ever tried to outrun. Simone. Her mother. Chane.
"No," Danelle said, shaking her head. "I can't."
"I know I'm asking too much. But Rosa… please." Camilla's voice softened. "This is the first time I'm asking you for something. After everything I've done for you… just this once."
Danelle looked at her, torn between loyalty and self-preservation. Grandma Camilla had been her rock, the only one who stood by her when the world turned its back. She owed her everything.
She inhaled slowly, pain flickering in her eyes.
"Fine," she whispered. "I'll book my flight."
Camilla stood up, pulling out a folder from behind the couch. "I already did. Your passports are ready. The kids' too."
Danelle stared at her. Of course.
She didn't say a word. Just turned and walked upstairs, her heart pounding harder with each step.
Her hands trembled as she reached the children's door.
How would she tell them?
They'd grown up in Italy. They had friends, routines, safety. How could she ask them to leave all that behind?
More importantly… how would she protect them from the truth?
If Chane ever discovered the children were his…
No. That couldn't happen.
She placed a hand on the door handle, trying to steady herself. Just then, it creaked open from the inside, and a figure stepped out.
Erika.
Danelle froze.
Erika's face held a wicked grin, smug and satisfied. That kind of smile only meant one thing.
She'd done something.
Something to her children.
Danelle's blood ran cold.
To Be Continued