What's Wrong With Being An Omega Nanny?-Chapter 110: The Corleones! 2

Chapter 110: The Corleones! 2
The grand dining hall of the Corleone castle was too big for four people. Twenty-four chairs sat around a table long enough to seat a small army. Crystal chandeliers hung from a ceiling painted with angels and scenes of battle. Gold-rimmed plates waited in perfect lines. The morning light came through tall windows.
Lady Valentina walked in first. She had spent an hour choosing her outfit: a simple but expensive cream dress, pearls at her throat, hair pinned up neatly. She wanted to look respectful, not desperate. She needed the old man to listen to what she had to say today.
Her daughters were already there.
Sofia sat on the left, legs crossed, wearing a black crop top that stopped just under her ribs and tiny denim shorts that barely covered anything. Her phone was in her hand, the camera pointed at the plate of pastries in front of her.
"God... This looks so delicious,"
Bianca was opposite her, in a backless red mini-dress that showed the full tattoo of a snake curling around her spine. She was scrolling, earbuds in, chewing gum loudly.
Valentina stopped in the doorway and felt her eyes twitch. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She wanted a perfect breakfast that would not cause any problem but looking at it now, it was already a problem.
"Girls," she said, voice tight. "What in the world are you wearing?"
"Clothes?" One of them answered.
"Go and change. Now! Immediately!"
Sofia didn’t even look up. "No, we won’t,"
Bianca blew a bubble with her gum. Pop.
"We’re not dressing up for an old man who doesn’t know we exist. There’s no way we’re doing that,"
Valentina walked closer, heels clicking on the marble floor.
"This is not a request. This is your grandfather. Show some respect."
Sofia finally lifted her eyes.
"He didn’t come down when we arrived yesterday. He didn’t welcome us as a real grandfather should. Why should we care?"
"Because I asked you to," Valentina said through her teeth. "Five minutes. Go. Hurry before he comes down,"
Bianca pulled one earbud out.
"Mom, relax. It’s just breakfast, not our last supper."
Valentina opened her mouth to argue when the butler appeared at the side door. He caught her eye and gave the tiniest wink.
’He’s coming.’
Valentina’s heart jumped. She smoothed her dress, sat down quickly, and kicked her daughters under the table.
"Phones away. Sit properly and smile."
Sofia rolled her eyes but slipped her phone under her thigh. Bianca left hers on the table, the screen still glowing.
The main doors opened.
Four guards walked in first, huge men in black suits, guns under their jackets. They took positions at the corners of the room.
Then came the old master.
Don Antonio Corleone moved slowly, leaning on a black walking stick with a silver wolf’s head. His suit was perfect, dark grey, pressed sharp enough to cut paper. His white hair was combed back. His eyes were pale blue and cold.
Valentina stood at once, elegantly.
"Father," she said softly, stepping forward to help.
He lifted one hand to stop her and she froze immediately.
He walked the long way to the head of the table himself, with his cane tapping on the floor like a judge’s hammer. The guards didn’t move. The maids didn’t breathe. They all stood like stones till he got to his seat.
He sat down.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Sofia and Bianca kept their eyes on their plates.
Valentina sat again, hands folded in her lap.
Don Antonio looked at his granddaughters, examining them like they were some kind of work. But they didn’t look back.
Valentina reached over and snatched Sofia’s phone. Then Bianca’s.
"Hey!" Sofia started.
"No phones," Valentina hissed.
Bianca opened her mouth to complain, but one look from her mother shut her up.
Valentina turned to the old man with a bright, practised smile.
"Good morning, Father. Thank you for joining us."
Don Antonio didn’t answer. He stared at the girls one more time.
Sofia finally lifted her head, and her eyes met his.
"Morning," she muttered.
Bianca gave a tiny wave. "Hi."
"Hi? Morning? You should greet your grandfather well," Valentina almost yelled at them but the old man raised one hand.
"No need," he said, voice low and rough. "Their greeting will not make me live longer."
He looked at the butler. "Serve."
The maids moved fast. Plates appeared: eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, warm bread, and little bowls of honey and jam. Coffee and fresh orange juice.
Sofia and Bianca grabbed their phones the second their mother looked away. They started taking pictures of the food.
Click. Click.
"Hashtag rich breakfast," Sofia whispered.
"Hashtag bored," Bianca answered.
Valentina pretended not to hear.
Don Antonio watched them with flat eyes.
He didn’t touch his food.
His mind was somewhere else.
He remembered when this table was full.
Thirty years ago. Forty. He doesn’t remember since he was getting older.
His sons laugh. His two daughters are arguing over dessert. His wife was at the other end, smiling at him over coffee. Grandchildren running under the table.
His oldest son’s little boy, Alessandro, sitting on his right, legs swinging because they don’t reach the floor yet.
Back then the room was loud. Warm. Alive.
Now it was a tomb.
Three sons are dead.
This one daughter-in-law is now pushing her daughters at him like offerings.
He picked up his coffee but didn’t drink it.
Valentina cleared her throat, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Father?"
He blinked and looked at her.
"You’re not eating," she said gently. "Is everything all right?"
"I have no appetite to,"
He set the cup down.
Valentina clenched her fist and bit her lips. She wasn’t getting what she wanted, and it was annoying the hell out of her. She wanted to be noticed by him, but he’s busy assessing his granddaughters instead.
Valentina tried again.
"Father... the girls just finished school. They’re home for good now. I thought... it would be nice for you to see them."
Don Antonio looked at Sofia. Then Bianca.
They were back on their phones.
He looked at Valentina.
"I have seen them as you wish. May I leave?"
Valentina’s smile cracked. She stood quickly and walked around the table to his side.
"Father, please. Just a few more minutes."
She lowered her voice.
"You’re getting older. My husband is your only living son now. He’s healthy. Strong. He has two daughters. He has everything and anything to make him look responsible. The family needs a new..."
"Stop." His voice was quiet, but the room went still. Even the maids froze.
Valentina swallowed. Her teeth gnashed against each other as she started breathing hard. She didn’t know why she was scared of this man.
"Say what you want to say," he told her.
She took a breath.
"Hand the family to him. To us. It’s time. He should be the next head,"
Don Antonio stared at her for a long second.
Then he laughed.
It was not a happy sound.
"You think my third son can lead the Corleone family?" he asked.
"He’s your son," Valentina said. "Your own blood."
"He is weak," Don Antonio said simply. "And I already have an heir."
Valentina’s face went white.
"Your heir died. He died years ago."
"I saw my sons’ bodies," the old man said. "I held my daughter-in-law’s hand while they cut the child out of her dead body. But I never saw Alessandro’s dead body. Not once."
He leaned forward on his cane.
"My grandson is alive. And when he comes home, he will sit in my chair. No one else."
Valentina’s hands started shaking.
"That’s impossible," she whispered. "The car exploded. There was nothing left..."
"I don’t care what they told you," he cut in. "I will wait. I have waited seventeen years. I can wait more."
He started to stand.
Valentina grabbed the edge of the table. "Father..."
He turned and looked at her. Just one look.
That was all it took.
Valentina stepped back so fast she hit the wall. Her breath came in short gasps.
Don Antonio walked toward the door. The guards fell in behind him.
At the doorway, he stopped.
He didn’t turn around.
"Your daughters graduated," he said. "Good for them. But are you sure they passed on their own? Or did you buy it for them like everything else?"
Silence.
Valentina’s face burned red as she couldn’t respond.
The doors closed.
The dining room felt colder than before.
Bianca looked at her sister. "I hate this place."
Sofia nodded. "Same. Grandpa’s creepy as hell."
They both turned to their mother.
Sofia spoke first, voice low.
"Mom... what if Alessandro really is alive?"
Valentina’s head snapped up. Her eyes were wider than before as she grew even scared.
"No," she said quickly. "He’s dead. He has to be."
Bianca leaned forward. "But what if he isn’t?"
Valentina’s hands shook so hard her coffee cup rattled in the saucer.
"He can’t be," she whispered. "He just can’t. No!"