Chapter 2 - Nana Teresa's Arrival
It was Nana Teresa, Gabriel Thornton’s grandmother, a woman of 78, her pure white silver hair pinned into a tight bun at the back of her neck, eyes sharp as a razor, and an exquisitly carved oak cane in her hand. She walked slowly, yet each step echoed like a wardrum through the hall’s silence. No one in this room dared to breathe too hard because everyone knew exactly who Nana Teresa was. She was the one who had raised Gabriel after his mother died. She was the only person in this world whom Gabriel Thornton, the most powerful mafia boss in Chicago, respected with absolute reverence. When she spoke, he listened. When she gave an order, he obeyed, not out of fear, but out of the deepest love and respect a grandson could ever give his grandmother.
And now that powerful woman stood directly behind Gabriel, her eyes fixed on Camille as if she could see straight through the young woman’s soul. Gabriel turned, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “You’ve come.” Nana Teresa didn’t look at her grandson. She only gave a small nod, then continued toward the center of the grand hall. The crowd automatically drifted apart to either side like water splitting before a ship’s bow. No one dared stand in her way. No one dared whisper. There was only the steady tap of her cane against the marble floor, pacing the air inside that breathless silence.
Camille stood rigid as if dead on her feet. Her hand was still raised, her finger still pointed at Henry, but her whole body seemed frozen solid. She knew Nona Teresa. She’d met her twice before, and both times had been brief, polite encounters, carefully arranged, so Camille could display the most perfect version of her gentle sweetness. But this was different. This time, the woman had appeared without warning. This time, she’d seen everything. Nana Teresa stopped three steps from Camille. She didn’t say a word. She simply stood there looking the young woman up and down with eyes cold as ice. Then she slowly turned to Henry, the man who was still trembling with fear. She looked to Evelyn, the young woman standing straight back with an almost unnatural calm. Finally, she turned back to Camille and she spoke. Her voice wasn’t loud, but in the room’s absolute silence, every syllable rang out like a bell.
“So, this is the future bride of my grandson.” It wasn’t a question. It was a judgment. Camille swallowed. Her throat was dry as a desert. She tried to force a smile, but her lips only trembled into something warped and unsteady. “Nana,” she called, her voice a little higher than usual. “I didn’t know you were coming. What a wonderful surprise.” Nana Teresa didn’t smile. She didn’t nod either. She only tilted her head to one side as if studying a strange insect.
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“A surprise,” she said slowly. “I don’t think I’m the one who’s surprised here. I think it’s the guests at this party. They’re surprised to witness how you treat the people who work here.” Camille went pale. The blood drained from her face so quickly it was visible to the naked eye. She opened her mouth to say something, but Nana Teresa raised her hand. A small gesture, but enough to silence Camille at once.
“I’ve seen everything, child,” Nana Teresa said, her tone still calm as if she were talking about the weather. “I saw you point your hand in a man’s face over a small mistake. I saw you ready to destroy someone’s life in the blink of an eye. And I saw you standing here in front of 300 guests, acting as if you’re the queen of this place.” She paused for a beat. “But you’re not the queen, Camille. You’re only a guest in this house, and guests don’t have the right to fire anyone.”
