Chapter 45: Small Interruption
The morning sunlight entered through the large glass windows of the living room, illuminating the pile of fashion magazines scattered on the long dining table. Melynda sat at the end of the table with a gold pen in hand, scribbling something on thick cream-colored invitation paper. Her face looked very serious, her forehead deeply furrowed as if she were planning a state war strategy, even though she was only choosing the font type for the invitation cards.
Agatha sat beside her, chewing toast slowly. Her wounds had improved significantly after three days of total rest and intensive care, although her movements were still slightly limited. Xavier had left for the office since dawn to take care of the piling documents, while Frans went to clear up the remaining mess left by Luigi at the port.
"Mom, do you want to invite the whole of Paris?" asked Agatha while glancing at the list of names that dangled all the way to the carpeted floor.
"Only important people," answered Melynda without diverting her gaze from the paper. "Next week is my birthday. And this year has to be special because I am officially turning twenty five for the thirtieth time."
Agatha choked on her bread crumbs. Fifty five years old. It had to be admitted, Melynda looked far younger than her age thanks to routine care and her lifestyle.
"Happy birthday in advance, Mom," said Agatha sincerely after successfully swallowing her bread and drinking a little water. "What do you want as a gift?"
Melynda put down her pen. She looked at Agatha intently. Her gaze turned serious, eliminating the impression of a boisterous socialite woman.
"I do not need bags or diamonds. My warehouse is already full of those things. I only want one thing that has been very difficult for me to get all this time. I want Xavier to be present at the party. Physically present, not just sending a giant flower arrangement and then disappearing with work as an excuse."
Agatha frowned. "He never comes?"
"Only five minutes to cut the cake, then leaves. He hates crowds. He hates small talk with hypocritical old council members," Melynda complained while massaging her temples. "But if you ask him, Agatha, he will definitely obey. You hold the control now. If his wife asks, Xavier cannot possibly refuse, right?"
Agatha fell silent for a moment. The responsibility sounded heavy. She had just entered this life, and now she had to drag the Mafia King out of his hiding cave. But seeing Melynda's hopeful eyes, eyes that resembled Xavier's but were warmer, Agatha did not have the heart to refuse. This woman had taken care of her like her own child for the past few days.
"Alright," Agatha answered finally. "I will force him to come. Leave it to me."
Melynda squealed with delight. She immediately hugged Agatha's neck, making Agatha wince slightly because the stitches on her back were pulled.
"Sorry, sorry!" exclaimed Melynda in panic, releasing her embrace quickly. "Well, since you have agreed, now we have an important mission. We have to find your war gown."
An hour later, they were already at an exclusive boutique in the Champs Elysees area. The boutique was closed to the public for two hours specifically to serve the Valois family. Rows of evening gowns hung neatly, glittering under the crystal chandelier hanging majestically from the ceiling.
Agatha sat on a gray velvet sofa while the shop assistants were busy bringing out the latest collection. Melynda paced back and forth, rejecting almost all the dresses shown with the excuse that they were less dramatic or too boring.
"No, that is too plain. Agatha needs something that screams power, not a sweet debutante dress," commented Melynda when the assistant showed a pastel colored chiffon dress.
Agatha just watched silently. Her world used to contain only black, gray, and blood red. Seeing so many colors and expensive fabrics made her feel a little alien.
"Mom, do I really have to look flashy?" asked Agatha hesitantly. "I prefer something that allows for easy movement. Who knows if there is an emergency."
Melynda stopped sorting through the clothes rack. She walked over to Agatha, sat beside her, and held her daughter in law's hand.
"Agatha, in our world, a party is not just eating and drinking. A party is a battlefield without bullets. The way you dress, the way you stand, the way you smile, those are all weapons. People will judge you. The Council, business enemies, even allies. You have to show them that you are not just a display wife, but the Queen of Valois who cannot be touched."
Agatha digested those words. It made sense. In the underground world, reputation was a shield.
"I understand," Agatha nodded. "Choose the best for me."
Just as the assistant was about to bring a gold colored dress, the boutique's glass door opened. The bell above it chimed softly.
A large man in a neat black suit entered. It was Marco, Cardios's right hand man. His sudden presence made the room temperature feel like it dropped a few degrees. The boutique assistants stepped back politely, recognizing the dangerous aura the man carried.
Melynda stood up, her protective instinct emerging. "Marco? What are you doing here? Did Cardios send you to spy on our shopping?"
Marco bowed respectfully, his face stiff but polite. In his hands, he carried a long black box that looked heavy, tied with a silver ribbon.
"Sorry to disturb your time, Mrs. Melynda, Mrs. Agatha," Marco's voice was heavy and calm. "I do not mean to spy. Don Cardios knew you were here and ordered me to deliver something."
Agatha stood up slowly. "For whom?"
"For you, Mrs. Agatha," Marco walked closer, placing the box on the coffee table in front of Agatha.
Agatha and Melynda looked at each other. Melynda looked confused, her eyebrows knitting together. Cardios Volskey never sent gifts to anyone, let alone a young woman.
"Just open it," said Marco.
Agatha opened the silver ribbon, then lifted the lid of the box.
Her breath hitched. Inside the box lay an evening gown made of blood red silk velvet. The color was so deep and concentrated, like wine poured over snow. On the back, there was an intricate gold thread embroidery detail forming a pattern of wild climbing roses.
Beside the dress, there was a small open velvet box, displaying a set of antique ruby necklace and earrings. The gems gleamed dimly but sharply under the boutique lights.
"Don Cardios said," Marco spoke, delivering the memorized message from his master. "This is an apology gift because of the stiff dinner meeting yesterday. He said the color red would suit Mrs. Agatha's courage very well. And this ruby... symbolizes protection."
Marco took out a small card from his jacket pocket and placed it on top of the dress.
"He also already settled Mrs. Melynda's shopping bill today at this boutique. As a sign of friendship with new neighbors."
Melynda's jaw dropped slightly. "He paid for everything? Cardios Volskey treated me to shopping?"
"Correct, Madam."
Agatha touched the velvet fabric. Cold and very smooth. There was a strange feeling creeping up her fingertips. Not fear, but a familiar feeling she could not explain.
"Marco," called Agatha, looking into the man's eyes. "Why is he doing this? We are not close friends."
Marco looked at Agatha for a moment. There was a very thin flash of sympathy in the man's eyes before he put his flat face back on.
"Don Cardios is an old man who appreciates courage, Madam. And perhaps... you remind him of someone."
Marco bowed once again. "I will take my leave. Have fun."
The man turned and left as quickly as he came, leaving Agatha and Melynda transfixed staring at the black box.
"Okay, this is weird," muttered Melynda, breaking the silence. "Very weird. But... that old man's taste is not bad. This dress is a masterpiece."
That night, in the master bedroom of the Valois Mansion.
The room lights were dimmed. Xavier sat on the edge of the bed, his shirt already removed, leaving only black trousers. He held the ruby necklace given by Cardios under the light of the bedside lamp, twirling it slowly.
"So you planned Mom's birthday party and got a sponsorship from Cardios?" asked Xavier without turning his head, his voice flat but there was sharpness there.
Agatha sat at the dressing table, cleaning the remaining moisturizer on her face. The dress box lay on the sofa at the end of the room.
"I did not ask for it," Agatha answered calmly. "Marco just came to the boutique. Refusing his gift in public is tantamount to declaring war, right?"
Xavier snorted softly. He placed the necklace back into its box with a loud click.
"This is not ordinary jewelry," Xavier murmured. "This is ancient Burmese ruby. The cut is rough, old style. This is the kind of item kept in hereditary family safes, not the kind bought in a store for a neighbor's gift."
Agatha turned her dressing chair to face Xavier. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, he is making a statement," Xavier stood up, walking toward Agatha. "He is giving you a symbol of Volskey family protection. He is claiming you subtly in public. If you wear this tomorrow, Luigi and other council members will think twice before touching you."
"Is that a bad thing?" asked Agatha.
"It could be good, it could be bad. It will make you a target of curiosity for many people. And Luigi will feel threatened." Xavier rested both his hands on the back of Agatha's chair, caging his wife. Their faces were so close.
"Tomorrow's party will not be an ordinary tea party, Agatha. There will be many wolves in sheep's clothing."
Agatha looked into her husband's green eyes. "Because of that I am asking you to come. Melynda wants you there. And I... I also need you there."
Xavier fell silent for a moment, looking into the depths of Agatha's hazel eyes. Slowly, his hand reached out to touch Agatha's cheek.
"Are you asking me to come to protect Mom, or because you are afraid?"
"I am not afraid of them," Agatha answered honestly. "But that red dress... it feels too heavy if I wear it alone."
The corner of Xavier's lips lifted slightly. A thin smile that was rarely seen.
"Alright. I will come."
Agatha smiled with relief. "Thank you, Xav."
"But there is a condition," Xavier interrupted.
"What?"
"You must not be far from my reach. Not even a meter. And if any man, old or young, tries to ask you to dance other than me..." Xavier leaned down, whispering the next sentence in Agatha's ear. "...I will break his legs on the spot."
Agatha laughed softly, feeling a warm vibration in her chest. "Possessive."
"Territorial," corrected Xavier, then kissed Agatha's forehead. "Sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day. You have to save your energy to face my mother's socialite circus."
Agatha nodded and moved to the bed. However, as she closed her eyes, the image of the red dress still danced in her mind. Her intuition said that the dress was not just fabric, but an entrance ticket into a larger storm being prepared by fate. And she was ready.