Chapter 06

Greetings sweet people....
How are you?

Please ignore the typo mistakes

Enjoy!!
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"Stop near a convenience store." Hermione's cold voice made the two men sitting in the front nod. Sam turned a little and saw her with a frown on his face. Hermione glanced at him and then turned her head back to face the window. Marco, the driver, slowed the car and brought it to a halt near a big convenience store. Hermione opened the door, but before she could step out, Sam interrupted her.

"What do you want? Tell me, and I'll get it for you. You sit here," said Sam.

Hermione shook her head and got out. Sam followed her in a quick move. "I'll get it by myself. Do you want anything, Marco?" she asked, turning slightly towards the front window. Marco smiled and shook his head.

"Thank you for asking, but I'm fine, Queen," he replied softly.

Hermione turned to Sam, who had changed his expression from surprise to cold before she could notice.

"You?" she questioned Sam, but he just shook his head.

Hermione walked inside the store, and Sam followed her. She went to the drinks section and took three medium-sized bottles of mango juice. On her way to the checkout, she grabbed a big bar of white chocolate. After paying for the items, she walked back out and handed Sam two bottles, then sat in the back seat of the car. Sam gave one bottle to Marco, who thanked her, and Hermione hummed in response, busy sipping her drink.

Soon, they reached her penthouse. Sam and Hermione stood in the elevator, riding up to the 11th floor. Hermione was busy eating her chocolate while Sam stood two steps ahead of her.

The elevator dinged, and both entered the penthouse only to be greeted by a strict female voice, who was instructing the maids.

"Mama!" Hermione squealed loudly as she rushed forward, the maids walked away.

A woman with the same chocolate-brown hair turned around to see Hermione hurrying towards her. The woman greeted Hermione with a warm smile as they hugged tightly. Sam followed behind and observed the two women, who seemed in no hurry to break their embrace.

As they finally pulled apart, Sam noticed the similarities between Hermione and her mother. Hermione had inherited her mother's hair and skin tone. Though her mother was in her mid-40s, she looked much younger. Together, they could easily be mistaken for sisters.

"Mi sei mancata tanto, mamma"
(I missed you so much, mama), said Hermione, kissing her mother's cheeks.

"Anche tu mi sei mancata, tesoro"
(I missed you too, honey), her mother replied, kissing Hermione's forehead and lightly flicking her nose with her finger. Hermione pouted slightly, and Sam's eyes widened at the sight of the Devil Queen acting cute.

Before Hermione could say anything more, they heard footsteps coming from the stairs.

"Eli, do you really think it's a good decision? I don't want my sweetie to be involved in any sort of..." The man's words trailed off as he found himself suddenly embraced by Hermione. His once cold face softened into a warm smile. The man, in his mid-50s, had the same sapphire-colored eyes and pointed nose as Hermione.

"Mi sei mancato, papà"
(I missed you, dad), Hermione said, and her father nodded, giving her a long kiss on the forehead. He gently bumped his head against hers, making Hermione giggle.

However, his demeanor quickly shifted back to cold and strict as he turned to stare at Sam. Sam, standing a few steps away, returned the gaze. After a brief nod of acknowledgment from Hermione's father, Sam stood still, holding his ground.

Warner Salvatore Allen, Hermione's father, walked over to where Sam was standing. He extended his hand, and Sam firmly shook it.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Allen," Sam said, keeping his voice neutral.

Warner only nodded in response. Hermione, noticing the tension, smiled slightly because she knew her father was being especially cold to Sam.

"And this is my mother, Clair Elena Allen," Hermione continued, gesturing toward her mother. Sam walked over, and this time, he gently shook Clair's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Allen—"

"Clair will do," her mother cut him off with a smile.

"Nice to meet you, Clair," Sam corrected himself, returning the smile.

"Same here," Clair replied, but before she could continue, Warner cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention.

"Tesoro, penso che tu debba discutere di qualcosa con Hermione."
(Sweetheart, I think you have something to discuss with Hermione.) Warner said, making Clair gasp and turn towards Hermione, who stood next to Sam.

Sam, sensing the father-daughter dynamic, thought to himself: Here we go. The typical fatherly 'stay within your limits' talk.

Hermione, picking up on the unspoken tension, quickly intervened. "Dad, Sam is good at his job, so please don't go too hard on him," she said. Her father glared at her, and despite her usual composed demeanor, one look from him was enough to make her lower her head.

She respected her father but feared him, too. After a moment of silence, Warner gave her a stiff nod, and Clair offered her an encouraging smile. Hermione made a mental note to ask Eli and her father about something later.

Following her mother's suggestion, Hermione went upstairs to take a shower. Her mother, Clair, had always chosen outfits for parties and functions, knowing Hermione would prefer comfort over glamor.

Hermione enjoyed a long, hot shower, washing her hair and carefully shaving, avoiding any nicks or cuts. Afterward, she wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the bathroom. She spotted a beautiful cream-colored gown laid out on her bed, along with two small boxes.

She admired the gown. That's why I let Mama choose my outfits—she's so perfect at it.

After hanging the gown in her closet and setting the boxes aside, Hermione slipped into her nightclothes—a large lavender hoodie and black joggers. She dried her hair, combed through it, and left it loose before heading downstairs.

Sam was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when she arrived. She glanced at her phone: 5:37 p.m.

"I remember you asked for the evening off," Hermione said. "You didn't have to stay if it was an emergency."

"I'll leave now, Queen," Sam replied, before making his exit.

Hermione walked towards the balcony, knowing her parents would be there, and sure enough, she found them. Her father, Warner, was seated on one end of the couch, speaking with Eli, who sat across from him. Her mother, Clair, was busy going through the latest jewelry collection catalog.

Hermione made herself comfortable between her parents and smiled at her mother. When her father and Eli paused their conversation, she took the opportunity to ask the question on her mind.

"Eli, were you here?" she asked, knowing it would have been possible to travel back to Italy within a day.

"I stayed close by, just to make sure Sam wasn't bad news. And before you say anything, it was Mr. Allen's order," Eli explained in a single breath.

"Typical papa," Hermione muttered, while her father cleared his throat.

"Alright, enough of that," Hermione said, changing the subject. "Why are only you two here? Where are the minions and the demons?"

Her mother chuckled. "Your siblings and your two best friends are busy. They sent their apologies and promised to make it up to you," Clair explained.

Hermione groaned dramatically and slumped back on the couch, her face expressing frustration. Warner and Clair shared a quiet laugh, careful not to let her notice.

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The next day, Sam arrived early at the penthouse after spending the night at the hospital with his father—his only family, the one person he couldn't bear to lose.

Hermione and Sam left for work early. Her parents were off exploring, enjoying some quality time together.

She got busy with inspecting the decorations for the opening of the new hotel. This was the first time Hermione organised a party as in the past her mother helped her with all this and this time she wanted to do it herself......by slipping from Sam's hawk eyes. She had made a quick excuse to check the flower arrangements, and he was busy directing the security. Now, as the evening approached, the exhaustion was catching up with her.

Sam stood by, arms crossed, his gaze sweeping the crowd of workers and guests trickling in for the opening. His instinct was to keep a constant eye on her, but Hermione made that nearly impossible. He'd seen her skip meals before, but this time her exhaustion was obvious. Her steps faltered slightly as she moved from one part of the hall to the next, reviewing last-minute details.
Hermione had already worn herself thin, but her posture remained perfect, stern. She greeted every helper with a grace that hid her discomfort, even though Sam could tell. He had watched her enough to know the signs — the stiffness in her walk, the way she subtly shifted her weight from one foot to another to ease the pain in her heels, and the fact that she had barely touched food since morning.

"You need a break," he said quietly, handing her a glass of water.

Hermione glanced at him, her brow furrowing. "I'm fine, Sam. I can handle it."

"You've skipped two meals, and you're running on fumes. Drink."

She hesitated, not wanting to argue with him in front of the guests. She took the glass from him, sipping slowly, and gave a slight nod. "Happy now?" she asked, a faint trace of irritation in her voice.

"Not until you take a proper break," Sam replied, his tone low but firm. "The workers will handle the rest, you can go back get rest and get ready,"

But Hermione wasn't one to let go of control so easily. "It's not just about the party," she muttered, her fingers tightening around the glass. "I need this to be perfect."

Sam studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "You always aim for perfection. But even you need to breathe. Go back to the penthouse, I will join you shortly"

She opened her mouth to protest, but the sudden arrival of Warner and Clair interrupted her. Warner's eyes were filled with a fatherly concern that mirrored Sam's, while Clair's smile held the gentle insistence only a mother could master.

"Hermione, darling," Clair said softly, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "You've done more than enough. Come with me, let's freshen you up before the event starts. You can't pour from an empty cup."

Warner stepped forward, giving Hermione a reassuring smile. "You've worked hard, tesoro. We're proud of you. But now it's time to let go, just a little."

Hermione let out a soft sigh, looking from her parents to Sam, who was watching her with the same unrelenting gaze. She knew she couldn't argue with all three of them.

"All right," she finally relented, handing the glass back to Sam.

Clair chuckled, linking arms with her daughter as they headed toward the penthouse. Warner exchanged a brief glance with Sam, his silent gratitude evident.

Sam remained where he stood, watching as they disappeared into the hallway. He crossed his arms again, his gaze returning to the room. Everything was under control. But his focus never strayed too far from the thought of Hermione.

The Devil Queen had her limits too, even if she refused to admit it.

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"Eth baby, are you busy?" the little boy turned his face towards the entrance of his playroom to see his dad standing near the door.

"Dada, no, I not," he said in broken English, which made his dad chuckle. Nedvar picked him up in his arms and peppered his face with kisses.

Ethan laughed loudly because Nedvar's stubble tickled his skin. Soon, the room was filled with giggles and laughter. Nedvar kneeled slightly on the carpet, which was scattered with toys. He moved a few aside with his free hand and made himself comfortable, crossing his legs. He sat Ethan on his thigh and picked up his drawing book. There, he saw a drawing of their family—but there was one extra person standing next to Nedvar.

Nedvar was represented by a black box-shaped figure, symbolizing his clothes, while the other person had long hair and wore a white box-shaped figure. His mom, dad, Aldo, and Sera were drawn on the left side of the page, while Nedvar, the woman in the white dress, and little Ethan were on the right, all standing in a line like they were posing for a family photo. Sante and Sienna stood next to the woman in white.

Nedvar stood in the middle, with the woman and Ethan in his arms.

Then it clicked. Perhaps Ethan was starting to feel alone, needing someone he could trust, like he trusted his mother. No one could ever replace a mother, and the same goes for a father. They are two irreplaceable figures in a child's life.

But how could he give Ethan a mother? Nedvar had been the only one with him since the day he was born. While the rest of the family was always there, Ethan always wanted to sleep beside his dad and eat ice cream while staring at the sky, rain, or snow with him.

"Baby, who is this?" Nedvar asked softly, pointing at the girl in the white box. Ethan's posture stiffened suddenly, but Nedvar remained gentle, bopping his nose affectionately. "Tell dada, so that I can help you, hmm?" he softly encouraged Ethan to be open with him.

"I want Mama," Ethan said, and it made Nedvar think deeply about how he could fulfill his son's wish. Nedvar knew Hermione was a kind woman, but Ethan also needed to feel comfortable with her.

What if Hermione didn't accept him as her child?

What if she hurt his little boy?

What if Ethan couldn't accept Hermione as his mother?

What if he thought his mother didn't love him?

All these negative thoughts clouded Nedvar's mind, but he decided to give it a try.

Nedvar pulled out his phone and showed Ethan a picture that his spy had sent him earlier.

"Baby, you know dada loves this lady in the picture," he said softly, keenly observing Ethan's reaction. Ethan stared at the screen with his big doe eyes, then looked back at Nedvar, who smiled at him. He turned to the picture again, and suddenly, he screamed excitedly and hugged Nedvar.

"I Mama got got ~," he exclaimed. Nedvar's shocked expression quickly relaxed into a big grin, realizing his son had accepted her.

"Ethan, love you ~~," Ethan sang in his baby voice, making Nedvar chuckle.

"Love you more, babyboy," Nedvar replied. But Ethan pulled away and crossed his arms, a pout forming on his lips. Nedvar mirrored the gesture, making Ethan huff. Nedvar also huffed, turning away.

"Okay, enough of the huffing," Nedvar said. Ethan, realizing his tactics weren't working, leaned in and kissed him.

"You (peck on the right cheek) are (peck on the left cheek) the (peck on the nose) best (peck on the chin) dada (peck on the forehead)," Ethan giggled loudly.

"Okay, enough, be serious." Ethan said, frowning cutely. Nedvar pressed his lips into a thin line and bobbed his chin towards him, indicating he was ready to listen.

"What is Mama's name?" Ethan asked, wanting to know more.

"Her name is Hermione Silvia Allen. And before you ask more questions, I'll tell you everything about her..."

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It was already 5 p.m. by the time everything was settled. Running short on time, Hermione hurried back to the penthouse to get ready, only to find her parents were already there, preparing for the evening.

She rushed to her room, locking the door behind her, and began stripping off her clothes as she made her way to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she applied moisturizer to her skin and blow-dried her hair. Standing in front of the mirror, she applied her makeup while still wrapped in her light blue bathrobe. Her winged eyeliner made her blue eyes pop, and a touch of pink blush added warmth to her cheeks. She finished the look with a sepia pink lipstick that perfectly complimented her complexion.

Letting her hair fall naturally, she admired the soft curls that formed after washing. Hermione slipped into a gown her mother had chosen for her, pairing it with the jewelry and heels that Mama Clair had also selected.

She checked herself in the cheval mirror, twirling slightly to see the gown from every angle. Satisfied, she smiled at her reflection, grabbed a beige clutch, and stepped out of her room.

Carefully descending the stairs, she held the hem of her gown slightly above her ankles with her right hand, while gripping the railing with her left.

Focus... one step at a time, she thought. Tripping would be so embarrassing. Damn these heels, Mama...

Reaching the bottom step, Hermione sighed in relief and joined her father, Warner, who was waiting for her. He gave her a soft smile as she twirled in front of him—a habit she'd had since childhood whenever she wore something new.

"Oh, tesoro, sei stupenda!"
(Honey, you look stunning!)
Ma Clair exclaimed as she descended the stairs in a matching cream-colored gown, perfectly complementing Warner's suit.

Warner always had a love for white and its soft shades, and more often than not, Clair dressed to match his preference. Tonight, as usual, she looked stunning.

"Mama, you look gorgeous!" Hermione praised, her blue eyes gleaming with admiration. Warner, too, stared at his wife, utterly smitten.

Clair flushed under her husband's gaze and cleared her throat, though a smile played on her lips. Hermione walked ahead, and her parents followed a few steps behind.

"You still take my breath away, honey," Warner whispered to Clair, making her smile even wider. He kissed her forehead gently as they stood behind Hermione in the elevator, unnoticed by their daughter, who was busy on her phone.

A sleek, coal-black Mercedes-Benz V-Class waited at the entrance of one of their hotel suites. Sam stood beside it, wearing his usual black suit, his hair gelled and slicked back. His expression was as blank as ever, with an earpiece in his left ear.

The ride to the hotel was filled with laughter, mostly between Hermione and her parents, recalling family memories. When they arrived, Warner was the first to step out, buttoning his coat as he helped both his wife and daughter out of the car.

Almost immediately, they were surrounded by the media, bombarded with questions. Most of the attention was on Hermione, especially inquiries about her next project. She only answered a few, smiling politely, while the guards cleared a path for the Allen family to enter the hotel.

Once inside, Hermione began inspecting the hall, ensuring everything was set up just the way she wanted. Sam trailed behind her, scanning the positions of the guards—a habit from his past jobs.

Hermione's mood soured when she spotted an unprepared table. It lacked the centerpiece vase, and the water bottles were missing. Only a tablecloth adorned it. Frustrated, she slammed her hand on the table and instructed Sam to call the manager to fix the issue. She sat down, typing away on her phone, when two small hands suddenly covered her eyes from behind.

"Hand over all your white chocolates, now!" a soft, playful voice tried to sound stern.

Hermione grinned, turning around to see her younger sister, Sofia, and pulled her into a tight hug.

"I missed you, Sofia!" Hermione exclaimed with a bright smile.

"I missed you too, Vee," Sofia responded, equally energetic.

Before Hermione could pull away, a pair of large arms wrapped around them both. Hermione tilted her head back to see her younger brother, Carl, standing behind them with a mischievous grin.

"I missed you too, Silly," Carl teased, making Hermione chuckle.

"Aww, how sweet! Nice to hear it from you," Hermione mocked playfully. The three siblings broke into their usual chorus of "Eww!" before stepping apart.

"I'm never hugging you two again," Carl announced, scratching the back of his neck.

"Says the one who's always the first to hug," Sofia shot back with a smirk, earning a glare from her older brother.

Hermione was then embraced by two women her age. "Rory! Tori!" she exclaimed in surprise. After a few moments, she pulled away and glared at the group in front of her, all of them grinning smugly.

"Mama told me you wouldn't make it today!" Hermione scolded.

"That was just a prank, Vee," Rory, the blonde, chimed in cheerfully.

"And I know it was your idea, Rory!" Hermione accused, narrowing her eyes at her friend. Aurora Danielle aka Rory, dressed in a satin creamy-pink gown, looked stunning despite her playful demeanor.

"Come on, let's not waste time. Let's go take some pictures," Carl suggested, pulling Hermione toward the decorated photo wall at the entrance. As they approached, they saw Warner and Clair already posing for the event memory.

Carl Savio Allen, the CEO of the Allen Company's Rome branch, was the second child of Warner and Clair. Hermione was the eldest, and their youngest sibling, Sofia, was a first-year psychology student known for her mischievous nature.

The Allen family posed for various shots: parents together, mother and children, father and children, siblings alone, and individual portraits. Hermione's friends, Rory and Vittoria, joined the fun as well.

Aurora, with her golden-blonde highlights, was the bubbly one of the group, always up for shopping and prone to dating disasters due to her inability to see red flags.

Vittoria, with her shiny black shoulder-length hair, was the bold, carefree one. A renowned fashion designer, her clothes were popular among the middle class, though few knew her identity. She, too, wore a creamy-pink satin gown that matched her bold personality.

The photoshoot was a chaotic but fun affair.

As the event became more lively, with guests arriving, Hermione noticed a man she despised grinning at her from across the room. She gagged internally. If only Sam hadn't been called away for an urgent matter—he always made sure this particular man kept his distance.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. The hall fell silent, and the soft instrumental music seemed distant as everyone turned toward the entrance. Hermione followed the crowd's gaze and saw a large group of men in black, standing in formation, emotionless and robotic. They parted to reveal their boss.

A man, not too young but not too old, walked in like a king, one hand in his trouser pocket. His presence exuded danger, and whispers filled the room.

"I didn't know the Allens had connections with the Wyatts..."

"That's Nedvar Dario Wyatt... the hidden chairman... Rumours are that he's the ruthless Mafia King..."

Hermione frowned at the whispers, her blue eyes locking with his cold gray ones. A strange, unsettling feeling churned in her stomach as his gaze lingered on her.

His eyes never left her face as he took a step forward, his lips curling into a faint smile.

"Nedvar Dario Wyatt. Pleasure to meet you, my queen," he said in a deep, authoritative voice that only made Hermione's nerves tighten.

What is this feeling? she thought, irritated by the fluttering in her stomach. Hiding her emotions, she crossed her arms over her chest and replied coldly.