Caroline's home stands as a decaying monument to the sins of her past. The house, a once grand Victorian mansion, is now weathered and worn, with peeling paint and crooked windows that seem to gaze out onto the world with tired, haunted eyes. The air inside is thick with an unsettling stillness, as if the house itself holds its breath, unwilling to let go of the secrets buried within its walls.
The interior is a dark labyrinth of narrow hallways and shadowy rooms, each one seemingly frozen in time, as if the walls have absorbed the weight of decades of grief and guilt. The floors creak underfoot, echoing like faint whispers from long ago. There's a coldness that clings to the walls, but not the kind that comes from the outside—no, this cold is deeper, rooted in the very bones of the house, the kind of cold that feels like it comes from within.
The blood on the walls is metaphorical, yet palpable. It's in the cracks of the plaster, where old family photographs are half-hidden, faces blurred by time and neglect. It stains the corners of the rooms, where whispered arguments and shattered dreams still linger. The deep red of these stains isn't the color of blood itself, but rather the residue of betrayals, broken promises, and secrets that were never meant to be uncovered.
In the dim light, the walls seem to pulse with the weight of these hidden truths, pressing in on Caroline, as if the house itself is a living thing, silently bearing witness to the sins of her ancestors. The rooms feel oppressive, suffocating, as though they are alive with memories that refuse to stay buried, forcing Caroline to confront the past every time she steps inside.
This house is no longer just a home—it is a crypt, where the ghosts of family secrets roam freely, and where she can never truly escape the blood-stained history that lingers in the very fabric of her existence.
Caroline is a strikingly beautiful young woman, the kind of beauty that seems to draw the attention of everyone in the room without her even trying. At 21, she possesses a quiet confidence, a sense of knowing that comes from being born into a world were power and influence run deep. Her Italian heritage radiates from her every feature—an intoxicating blend of grace and fire.
She stands at an elegant 5'7", with a slender yet toned physique that hints at the strength beneath her delicate appearance. Her long, dark brown hair cascades in soft waves down her back, occasionally catching the light to reveal subtle hints of chestnut and deep mahogany. When she walks, there's a fluidity to her movements, almost as if she dances through life with a quiet, controlled elegance.
Her eyes are the color of rich espresso, intense and captivating. There's a depth to them, as though they've seen things most could never imagine. Her gaze is sharp and calculating, yet there's a softness there, a glimmer of vulnerability that only a few are privileged enough to witness. She knows how to use her eyes to disarm, to charm, but she also knows when to keep them guarded, like a well-placed weapon.
Her face is a masterpiece of Italian beauty—high cheekbones, a soft jawline, and full lips that curve into a knowing smile, one that teases the edges of mystery. Her skin is a warm, sun-kissed olive tone, smooth and flawless, as if kissed by the Mediterranean sun itself.
Despite her outward beauty, Caroline has an air of mystery about her that both intimidates and intrigues. She is the perfect blend of strength and grace, sweetness and steel. Raised in the shadow of a powerful family, she carries an unspoken weight in the way she holds herself, a quiet authority in her presence. There's a sense of danger that clings to her, a reminder of the world she's a part of, even when she flashes that soft, enigmatic smile.
she is the kind of woman you notice, and once you do, you never forget her. She is the epitome of Italian beauty—fiery, passionate, and dangerous, with a heart that is both fiercely loyal and guarded by the walls of the family she was born into.
In Caroline's house, quiet is a foreign concept. The walls seem to hum with the constant rhythm of her family's presence—an ever-present pulse that fills every corner of the old mansion. The house, while grand, has no room for solitude, and the air is always thick with the sounds of life, both loud and intense. The laughter, the arguments, the voices, they all blend into a cacophony that never quite fades away.
Her parents, with their larger-than-life personalities, often fill the house with a commanding presence. Her father salvatore,boss, speaks in a voice that carries authority, and her mother, fiercely protective and elegant, can always be found somewhere in the background, orchestrating the day-to-day with an effortless grace. Their voices often echo through the halls, whether it's heated discussions about the family business or moments of death or life.
Then there are the cousins, always around, always making their presence felt. The house buzzes with their constant activity, whether they're in the kitchen, debating over family matters, or laughing too loudly in the living room, their energy spilling into the air like an untamed storm. They are family, bound by loyalty and blood, and they make sure that their lives are heard.
Among them is Gianna, Caroline's sister, who is just as fiercely independent and outspoken as she is. Gianna's presence is impossible to ignore—her voice is a constant companion to Caroline's, their conversations often filled with banter, argument, and laughter in equal measure. Their bond is deep, but it is also marked by the tension of their shared upbringing in a family where strength is everything, and nothing is ever left unspoken.
At any given moment, there is the sound of footsteps echoing down the stairs, the clink of glasses being filled with wine, the faint rustle of papers, and the occasional raised voice cutting through the noise like a knife. It's never silent in the house—there's always something happening, someone coming or going, a constant flurry of activity that reflects the powerful, chaotic, and sometimes dangerous world the family inhabits.
For Caroline, the noise is a part of her identity. It's a reminder that the family she's been born into is always there, with all its love, tension, and dysfunction. The house may be beautiful, but it is never peaceful. The constant motion and noise are as much a part of her world as the blood that ties them all together. It's a place of both comfort and unease, where the walls are full of blood, and loyalties are tested, and where quiet moments are few and far between.
Scene:
The heavy wooden door to Caroline's room creaked open without warning, and there, standing in the doorway, was her mother. A woman who could command an entire room with a single look, dressed in a sleek black dress that was as much a statement as it was a reflection of her family's legacy. Her dark eyes met Caroline's with a mix of expectation and quiet authority.
"Caroline," her mother's voice was soft but firm, "it's time to get ready. Your father wants you to meet with him tonight."
Caroline didn't look up from the window, her gaze lost in the swirling dusk outside, the fading light casting long shadows across her room. Her heart was racing with frustration, anger brewing just beneath the surface. She hated this part of her life—hated the expectations, the constant reminders of who she was meant to be.
"I don't want to," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, as though the very act of speaking the words would make them real.
Her mother's lips thinned, the faintest flicker of impatience passing over her face before she stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click. She walked toward Caroline, each step deliberate, measured—just as Caroline had been taught to walk, just as every member of their family was taught to carry themselves. Strong. Controlled. Unbothered. But her mother's eyes betrayed a flash of something else. The weight of it all. The weight of family.
"You don't have a choice in this, Caroline," her mother said, her tone still soft but edged with steel. "Your father's decision is final, and you know as well as I do what it means to disappoint him."
Caroline snapped her gaze to her mother, her dark eyes burning with defiance. "I'm not some... trophy to be presented to him like an offering." The words tasted bitter on her tongue. "I don't care who he is."
Her mother stepped closer, a sigh escaping her lips as she reached for Caroline's chin, lifting her face to meet her eyes. The touch was tender, but the message was clear. She was the matriarch of this house, and she would have her way.
"You are my daughter," she said, her voice lowering, almost a whisper, "and you will carry yourself with grace. You will meet him. Not because it's what he wants, but because it's what we must do. Our family's future... it depends on it."
Caroline pulled away, stepping back, her hands balling into fists. "I don't care about our future! I care about me. I'm not some pawn to be moved around a board—I'm not like you."
Her mother's expression flickered with something darker, something Caroline had seen only in moments of extreme frustration. "Don't speak like that." Her mother's voice was low, carrying the weight of a command. "You know nothing of what I've sacrificed. What we've all sacrificed. It's not about you or me, Caroline. It's about the family. It's always been about the family."
Caroline's chest heaved as she clenched her jaw, every fiber of her being screaming to fight back. But the words wouldn't come. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. To tear down the walls that had been built around her her entire life. She wanted to be free.
But she knew the truth. There was no freedom in this world. Not for someone like her. The mafia was her life, her family was the mafia. And whether she liked it or not, she had been born into a legacy that would never let her go.
Her mother studied her for a long moment, and then she softened, just enough for Caroline to see the woman behind the mask. "I know this isn't easy for you, but you must understand... there is no choice. It's who we are."
Caroline's voice cracked, her resolve wavering. "I don't want to be part of it."
"You already are," her mother said quietly, turning toward the door. "Now, get ready. He will be here soon."
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Caroline standing there, frozen, torn between her heart and the blood that ran through her veins.
She stared at the empty space her mother had occupied. The weight of her family's legacy pressed down on her, suffocating, inescapable. She wanted to resist, to refuse—to fight every single step of the way. But she knew it was useless. The game had already been set in motion, and there was no way out.
With a heavy sigh, Caroline turned toward her closet, her fingers trembling as she reached for the dress her mother had already chosen for her. She didn't want to play this role, but she had no choice. Not tonight.
The weight of the blood on the walls, the blood that had been spilled for this life, was always there—looming.