This is the story of Gianna (from New moon) how she came to work for the voultri ect.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Let me start from the very beginning.

My mother and father weren't married when I was young, and by the time my mother had her third child she demanded they be married as soon as possible.

So one Friday night in the pitch-black darkness a priest was summoned, vows were said – and they were united. This was when I was three. My mother continued to have children, fulfilling her lifelong dream of a big family.

My father, a caring and gentle man, never really knew us. 4:00 in the morning he would leave for work, 10:00 at night he would return, weary and exhausted. My mother had six children with my father, until he passed away, an overworked and happy man.

My mother was remarried and proceeded to have another 4 children with her new husband.

Though some of the step -children tried to connect with us, we never really considered them part of our family – however treacherous that might seem. Our family was a big one. There was Alessandro, the youngest, then Fedele, Alisa, Caprice, Antonio and finally, Me. Gianna. As for the stepsiblings, Luka, Francesco, Aldabella and Potrigo. My new father, a nobleman called Alberto, earned more than his fair share of money using cheats, treachery and trickery.

Unfortunately, I think I have taken those traits mainly from him. When I was fifteen I was ready to live life my way – without the burden of my siblings at my side. But, out of thankfulness to my mother and love for my brothers and sisters I stayed with my hectic family until I was 18 and after my birthday celebration (which I shared with Antonio) I packed my bags and headed for the most lively place in the whole of Italy.

Volterra.

* * *

I arrived at the gates of the crowded city. Small electric cars lined the cobblestoned streets and a constant buzz of life and time floated in the muggy, heated air. My suitcase fell to the floor in stunned amazement. It was the most beautiful sight. So much more different than the blank, desolate landscapes of Far East Tuscany. I walked forward slowly, dragging my bag by a small strip of its fabric. I could hear the quiet sniggers of people passing by. My eyes were practically popping out of my head. I quickly retrieved a small piece of crumpled paper from my pocket. It read:

430 Armani Road, Mycesson

I drew in a deep, shuddering breath. My heart was pumping nervously against my ribcage. My head darted around, looking for some indication of where I was. There was a sign a few metres away

Jenison Road

My head swam. I remembered the real estate agent mentioning something along those lines. What had he said? Go left at Jenison Road; keep going until Port Camorras then your there…

That was it, right? I stumbled forward, my suitcase pulling on my arm painfully. It took one long hour, but I finally arrived. The apartment was old and shabby. Paint was bowing to the wind; water was a thing of the past. But it was mine. A home of my own without any of my family screaming or crying or making a racket. It was on the main highway, no doubt by the morning cars would be whizzing past at top speeds. But the rental property was dirt cheap, and that was all I needed. I grabbed my keys and fumbled with them in the stiff, rusted lock. As I opened the door and stepped in, thought I saw a swish of black cloaks fly through the air, but when I turned to look…

It was just darkness…