“Let’s get you dressed,” she said, helping Vaughn into his little suit.
Once Vaughn was dressed, she took a moment to gather herself. She slipped into her navy-blue dress, the fabric hugging her curves in all the right places, giving her an air of elegance and control that she would need tonight. Standing in front of the mirror, she adjusted her hair and smoothed out the dress.
Vaughn watched her with admiration, his young eyes filled with pride.
“You look so pretty, Mommy,” he said, his voice soft with awe.
Amara smiled, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “And you look so handsome.”
Together, they left the room, walking hand in hand toward the main hall where the guests would soon gather. The house was already buzzing with activity.. staff rushing to make the final preparations, ensuring everything was in perfect order.
Amara felt her pulse quicken. Tonight wasn’t just another social event. With the major alliances present, there would be power at play… people reading between the lines, assessing her every move. It wasn’t just about appearances; it was about survival in a world where alliances could turn in a heartbeat.
She had spent years perfecting the art of maintaining control, of keeping her true emotions buried beneath a calm exterior.
Her phone rang.
Amara glanced down at the screen and saw it was a video call from her brother, Leo.
He couldn’t make it tonight due to the upcoming elections of Ivanov Family, but at least he hadn’t forgotten her birthday.
A small smile tugged at her lips as she gladly accepted the call.
Leo’s face filled the screen, his strong features illuminated by the soft glow of his office lighting. He was wearing a suit, as always, his tie slightly loosened, and his usual confident grin was replaced with a warm expression meant only for family.
“Hey, brother,” Amara greeted, her voice softening.
“Happy birthday, Amara!” Leo’s voice rang out with excitement, his energy infectious even from across the screen.
“Thank you,” she replied, her smile growing. Just as she finished speaking, she heard another voice join in.
“Happy birthday, Amara!” It was Emery, Leo’s fiancee, leaning into the frame with a bright, enthusiastic smile.
“Thank you, Emery,” Amara smiled.
“I wish I could be there,” Emery added, her tone sincere, her dark eyes reflecting the longing she felt.
Amara waved it off with a casual smile. “That’s okay. You can come over any time.”
Leo’s voice interrupted their conversation, his tone playful. “Where’s Vaughn? I want to see my nephew.”
Amara turned the phone slightly, her heart swelling with affection as she spotted Vaughn in the corner of the room, engrossed in one of his toys. “Vaughn,” she called softly.
Vaughn looked up, his bright eyes locking onto the screen. He quickly abandoned his toy and ran over, standing next to his mother. Amara adjusted the phone so that Leo and Emery could see him clearly.
“Hello, Uncle Leo!” Vaughn greeted enthusiastically, his little voice bubbling with excitement.
“Hey, champ!” Leo beamed, his face lighting up even more. “You’re looking sharp tonight.”
Vaughn smiled proudly, glancing down at his navy-blue suit. “Mommy and I are matching!” he exclaimed, his chest puffing out with pride.
Leo laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You two look perfect.”
Later that evening, the mansion came alive with activity. The soft glow of chandeliers bathed the grand hall in warm light, casting long, intricate shadows on the polished marble floors.
Amara stood beside her father, Vincent, at the entrance of the grand foyer, her features a perfect mask of control and poise.
The first guest arrived, a sleek black limousine pulling up to the entrance.
A man stepped out, tall and broad, his presence imposing. Amara recognized him immediately…. Giorgio Bianchi, head of the Bianchi family, one of their closest business partners in the underworld. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back, his sharp features softened only by the faint smile he offered as he approached.
“Amara,” he greeted, his voice deep and resonant. “Happy birthday.” He took her hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it, his lips brushing lightly against her skin. “You look radiant tonight.”
“Thank you, Giorgio,” Amara replied smoothly, her tone polite but distant. “I’m glad you could make it.”
Vincent exchanged a brief nod with Giorgio, acknowledging his presence but not lingering. More guests were arriving, and there was little time for extended pleasantries.
As the evening progressed, the guests continued to arrive in a steady stream, each one more powerful and influential than the last. Amara greeted them all with the same grace and poise, her voice never faltering, her smile never wavering. Yet beneath the surface, her mind remained vigilant, her thoughts calculating each interaction, each word spoken.
“Happy birthday, Amara,” came the smooth, honeyed voice of Liliana De Luca, the elegant wife of one of Vincent’s more lucrative business partners.
Liliana was draped in a crimson gown that hugged her slender frame, her blonde hair pinned up in a cascade of curls. Her beauty was undeniable, but her eyes held a sharpness that told Amara she was not someone to be underestimated.
“Thank you, Liliana,” Amara replied, her smile polite as she exchanged a quick embrace with the woman. Liliana’s eyes flickered briefly to Vincent before she continued on, her husband, Marco, trailing just behind her.
“Amara, my dear,” Marco said with a flourish, taking her hand and offering a dramatic bow. “You grow more beautiful with each passing year.”
Amara resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his theatrics. “Thank you, Marco.”
It was the same, guest after guest. They came with their polished words and carefully constructed compliments, but beneath the surface, Amara knew they were here for more than just her birthday.
As the crowd in the grand hall grew, the atmosphere shifted, becoming heavier with the weight of expectation. Vaughn was with her mother, Isabelle, the entire evening.
“Amara.” A voice came from behind Amara. She turned to see Anton Petrov, an old family friend and one of her father’s trusted advisors, approaching. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief, and a knowing smirk played on his lips. “Happy birthday, darling.”
“Thank you, Anton,” Amara replied, her tone cool. She had never particularly liked Anton. His words were always too sweet, too rehearsed, and there was something unsettling about the way he looked at her… Just like Alessandro..
As she thought of Alessandro, she wondered why he wasn’t here yet, nor had the Romano family arrived.
“I see you’ve grown into quite the formidable woman,” Anton said, his gaze lingering on her longer than necessary. “Your father must be proud.”
Vincent, standing nearby, merely grunted in acknowledgment, his focus elsewhere as he greeted another guest.
Amara kept her expression neutral, unwilling to give Anton any satisfaction from her discomfort. “I do my best,” she replied, her voice sharp.
“Of course,” Anton chuckled, but there was something predatory in the way his eyes flickered over her. “If you ever need anything….”
“She’s quite capable on her own, Anton,” Vincent’s voice cut in suddenly, cold and unyielding. Anton’s smirk faltered for a moment, and he quickly excused himself, leaving Amara with a sense of relief.