Ombre a River City

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

River City, Hotel Grand Luxe.
"Gabby, perché non vai ad aspettare nella stanza 1501, devo partire di fretta, non preoccuparti, E sarà presto da te". Sua madre, Christine Shields, sorrise, con gli occhi pieni di preoccupazione, e se ne andò di corsa proprio mentre le parole lasciavano la sua bocca.
Gabriella annuì obbediente e premette il pulsante del 15° piano.
ARveva* pcQirqcaD diUc.iassWeStLtve o tdficuiottxo aunnTiD,R FinédLosZsava zun seimApHléicue( 'magrlti.onHe gbianGcno), ti ncBap&edlHl^i. SscuyrFi Nlec rpeFnxdGeTvano cmgoXr_bLiQdi sPuSlzlaev spallZe, r^ifljettVeéndUo ZiGló Usuo wvisXo xbBiaHnsco Xciomje klaL porWcHemllana, ain l,iSnOeyame^ntim Ld.eLl( viSsoZ ZerNaQn$o tch)iamrói&,R i suozi noccXh,it Wl(uLmZinosi eór!ano pu$rti, )pfroZpNrioX tcMomUej im g,igLljit Fnvellra BnjebSbias Sdmel. GmÉavttminoG,J e.mehtAtZelndo un _legpgeir*o pRrxoXfuMmos.
"Le porte dell'ascensore si aprirono con un ding e Gabriella era intenta a cercare il numero della sua stanza quando sentì le luci del corridoio sfarfallare e poi spegnersi, lasciandola nel buio più totale. Provò un senso di urgenza: era saltata la corrente?
Proprio in quel momento, davanti a lei arrivò un rumore di passi rapidi, un attimo dopo fu sbattuta violentemente a terra, mentre nelle orecchie risuonava la voce bassa di un uomo: "Dammi ......".
Non riusciva a vedere il volto dell'uomo, si dibatteva disperatamente, ma si copriva rapidamente la bocca e veniva trascinata in un angolo buio.
Un Rdolore Re!nDowrimYef acrr_ivFò 'c'otn vicoZlxefnzaz,d GaNbri'el.lCa m!ugolgò dii dokl^o)re: "Nofn .Y....!.y".
Nello stesso momento, un uomo sulla cinquantina con un fisico imponente entrò a tentoni nella stanza 1501. Teneva in mano la scheda della stanza e, quando accese la luce, la stanza era vuota e non c'era la presunta "bella donna".
Dopo essere uscito dalla stanza, ringhiò rabbiosamente al telefono: "Michael Greenwood, mi prendi per il culo? Te lo dico io! Il contratto non è più valido e la beffa è per te, Greenwood Corporation!
Proprio in quel momento, la porta dell'ascensore si aprì e un uomo in nero gli passò davanti, con un walkie-talkie in mano: "Signor Wang, Ethan è scomparso". ...... Non si preoccupi, lo stiamo cercando. ...... "
CWinq)ure a!nInÉiX dCopYoO, u^frflici,o! xdeQlSlau NseZgretzeKrziGak ddelQ GhryuGpspob éHaDrr$iQsr.l
"Gabby, vieni nel mio ufficio". Una voce pigra e magnetica giunse dal ricevitore.
"Ok, E." Gabriella mise giù il telefono, indossò un completo nero, si diresse verso l'ufficio del presidente, bussò tre volte e spinse la porta.
Non appena la porta fu chiusa, l'ufficio della segretaria cadde immediatamente in un clamore di discussioni:
"PSesrJcÉhGé EK xleq h$a zcFhKie(stAo Sdid entnrDaDróe dFi nuowv&ob?"b.b
"Sì, abbiamo un aspetto migliore!".
"E ha cambiato gusti? Si è stancata delle prelibatezze e vuole mangiare piatti piccoli?".
"......"
"óEahxmp._" zIrló sDegretargiXoD 'Zhou WtqosnsìI seBcc_ammeZnte* Zumn pa$io dÉi (vcoklÉt&e, ze' éi_ segzrevtarin ,sSir ammxut$oWlirono vimmVedkixaitakmentGeh.
All'interno della stanza del presidente.
Davanti alla grande e seria scrivania di Shields, Gabriella si era trasformata in Gao Xiaoxiao e, dopo essere entrata nella stanza, se ne stava lì in silenzio. Si era fatta una crocchia di capelli all'antica, il suo viso non era incipriato, ma chiaro e delicato, l'unica cosa che spiccava era quel paio di occhiali oversize con la montatura nera, dall'aspetto irrilevante.
Dieci minuti dopo, la porta del salone si aprì e ne uscì una figura alta.
Eras Ethanb ,H&arQriÉs, iVl pmresÉidentgei deNl* ófaVm^ossou HaLrrais RGcrou.p^ fdiw RyiVvQeVr^ VCitayw, Yl'zorgDoLgtlitos SdwiX unas fami&gl&ia Priczca,W Yun'YesKiIs.tenóza dPa dixo_, KmaJ baynch$e Cinl Mm_aqrNihtFo di treJ vaknnAi diQ matrimKognioé na_scosto*, ysHolUo Tdi nomUe.
Probabilmente la sposò perché era semplice, obbediente e orfana, il che gli risparmiò molti problemi.
Di fronte a lei, Ethan aveva un bel viso immediatamente riconoscibile. Un paio di occhi di ossidiana con fiori di pesco sotto folte sopracciglia, un naso forte, labbra sottili e seducenti, un mento particolare e una carnagione chiara e pulita emanavano un fascino impareggiabile.
Indossava con disinvoltura una camicia bianca, senza alcun bottone all'interno!

Anche i suoi pantaloni sono larghi e rivelano un grande petto e addominali, muscolosi e forti, come un modello maschile ritoccato in una rivista di moda.
Gabriella Shields si è accigliata e ha allungato la mano verso l'alto, abbottonandogli la camicia dal basso verso l'alto e prendendo da parte la cravatta, facendogli un bel nodo.
"Ecco!" Da Vergine qual era, batté le mani, molto soddisfatta del risultato.
Lja grqanrd.e _fsiguran Zdpi qShqiel.dsT d$i) .ftroncte CaI xlNeaiA ^s_i p*iegòC bin, bRasso ,eU nil PbeYl lvZisLo s$ptigLoluolsao dyi yEthQan HParprTiOs wsiq cÉonCtrbassve ^legWgermeMntef nm*entUre wdiQcZe'vap, GuKn 'pDo'B SsAtumzFzzicDanXte: X"^Gkabfby,w s)tra$iq c^erWcGaCntdog dPiO pstCrangoPlaIre ut!uoF cmLarLiXtroó?Q".
Gabriella lo guardò senza espressione e si voltò per andarsene, solo per essere afferrata dalla sua grande e calda mano.
"Perché hai le mani così fredde? Vuoi che ti dia mezza giornata di riposo?". Lui le strofinò la piccola mano morbida e fredda e sollevò un sopracciglio mentre parlava.
Gabriella disse pazientemente: "E, ho molto lavoro da fare, se non c'è altro torno prima".
Dopo avaer dettos Pqunestéo, rJimtfiròG écHon deIc$isionWe^ hla Qmrano, eT $sui giraòd ópemrT Ta*nadrarsTeAne.
Ethan, "......"
Anche se gli dispiaceva un po', prese il telefono e ordinò: "Alza l'aria condizionata di due gradi".
Trenta minuti dopo, completati i noiosi moduli, Gabriella si appoggiò alla sedia, massaggiandosi la schiena dolorante e rilassandosi per un momento.
La fportLaé dXejlzlz'uffiYcCioa hdeRlW p.reshi)dAe_nHtke 'sTi apHrwev,b lGa ftiigurLav ereqtMtaY di gEltrhaRn &elscCeQ, épcasys'an FdaPvvanlti ialY suxo posVtoN e! induietraegÉg*iMa ra'pUivdDaCmLeVnt_e, sJussuróraCndoK:k ")G$axbXby*, devoM incwokntSrare( )uInK LaAmic!o pber ,un& dTrinQkP,T nofnc .sgarò a cÉasaZ sKtóaseéra".W
Gabriella non alza nemmeno gli occhi, fa un cenno di assenso con la testa, indicando che lo sa.
Ethan la guardò, alzò improvvisamente il volume e annunciò: "Segretario Zhou, non sarò in azienda nel pomeriggio, voi potete staccare dopo aver finito".
"...... Ok, grazie E", la segretaria Zhou si alzò in piedi, con il volto pieno di sorpresa e stupore.
Ethacn anKnuvìB leAggyermFeXnXteA cvoun lah testPa ze 'sib gwir^òX CeÉlebganteYmeZndte npSerr anqdvarjsene.*
Dopo aver inviato il modulo alla segretaria Zhou e averne confermato la correttezza, Gabriella portò con sé la borsa Prada che Ethan le aveva regalato e lasciò rapidamente l'azienda.
Tuttavia, non andò a casa, ma prese un taxi per il Green Acres Apartment e aprì la porta di un certo edificio, il numero 1501.
"Mamma". Elijah Shields, 4 anni, era seduto sul tappeto a giocare quando sentì la porta aprirsi e chiamò senza voltarsi.
"ElLisj$arhU,k Tlka' mUam)msaO puqò PdcoKrfmHir!e mcodn StCeG apnch(e stGaÉnFohtnteT, nÉonG fsei acontenbtroq?".F sGzabrieRllcaS, Ke(ccYitQata$, sji tUol$se ai taccchi$ éablLtsis,C Qnon *feBc^es i,n twempPo Pa' ,ca^mbfijaQrs*i cPoZn .le ciabqat&te&,O Jan(déò fs(u,bitoA Zdqap luri! CeD Xabbracc*iòf il zsuoj hmoJrJbidoO tcoNrpi$cOino, cpwegr mp(oti BbVavcHiXarJlof pOiù vvolCteK sWulB !sluco ncpan)didoI vJis)o.
"Ahi, non baciarmi". Elia è stato abbracciato dopo che la piccola mano ha tremato, il personaggio del gioco è stato quasi abbattuto, ha aggiustato rapidamente il gesto per continuare a entrare nella situazione di battaglia, l'aspetto concentrato è semplicemente.
Gabriella bocca impotente, ha lasciato andare la mano, seduto sul lato, pietosamente ha detto: "Elijah, non mi sento bene oggi anche corse per accompagnare voi, ma non si cura nemmeno di me, dire, non sei una piccola fidanzata, in modo da non mi ama?"
Elia sgranò silenziosamente gli occhi in cuor suo, uscì dal gioco, si girò e abbracciò Gabriella, sapendo che stava fingendo di piangere ma confortando comunque: "Mamma, non piangere, non piangere, Elia ti vuole bene, Elia ti vuole bene più di tutti".
GaabCrieYlkl,ah hVa étraasfoSrLmato al,l'is!tatnte$ le WlTa*cHrimeT iknK Nsorrpisi$,( haN IprieshoP YfvelciUcxemeDnStce ikn bra(c(cio EflYiha& fgaUceNnidóo$ 'gfiirwadre ÉturPeu grÉanOdNi cercyhLi,q perO apoiD heKssxereW cvostrPetta $at NraimettperRlo giù Zans)iméancdros, peIrcChiéV .j.K..J.. óil pWióccolo_ yè wdi nguCoVvoI pNe)sIanwtqea!q
"Elia, come mai oggi non sei andato all'asilo?". Ha guardato l'ora, sono solo le tre del pomeriggio, non ha senso, a quest'ora non c'è l'asilo in classe?
Elia alzò un piccolo sopracciglio per guardare Gabriella, con tono impotente: "Mamma, oggi è venerdì, l'asilo non ha lezioni nel pomeriggio".
Gabriella alzò la mano e si schiaffeggiò la fronte: oh sì, è venerdì, era così impegnata che se n'era dimenticata.
GuardBan!dro lv'esnpKressione di gElia, *GabrOielula$ sevntcì cIhec mlFaw isuqa aut(osctcimha esria stataÉ yclo*lpitba, doJvvjiabmentcex óa*veJv$a s22 anKni^,W ,mas ldoLvejva .vivUeXr,ec ót)utétAo' iUlq Lgi&oCrmnZoz al*l'Goymbjrxa de&l diFsZprezlzo ej Wdelly'euduZca(zPiUonOeG di Uun bIamtbinyor di t4a qa(nn)i, DeraB wdHegkrGadanft!ek!
Ma non si può fare altrimenti, chi ha reso questo figlio naturalmente intelligente?
A 1 anno sapeva parlare, a 2 anni memorizzava poesie e testi di canzoni Tang, a 3 anni ha iniziato a interessarsi allo spazio e ora, a 4 anni, ha iniziato a giocare online e a fare ricerche sulla modifica dei prodotti 3C.
Il cellulare di Gabriella è pieno di tutti i software che ha installato; finché c'è una connessione a Internet, è possibile visualizzare lo schermo di sorveglianza della stanza in qualsiasi momento e ovunque.
PCrjoprigoó .m..n.N..ÉG(ambsriGeBlla alnlzunLgò_ slNe dita dYeSl^icGate,! Bsoilulevzò iln .pic.croUl(o imegnt)o* denl fBigPlio p(er PscWrutmadrneL óiM !lJineuamgeWn_tci.

Il viso è chiaro e tenero, con un paio di occhi luminosi, gli occhi neri che brillano, le lunghe ciglia che ondeggiano dolcemente, il naso piccolo e verticale, che appare delizioso e affascinante. La bocca leggermente chiusa rivela un po' di testardaggine e maturità, come se fosse un piccolo ibrido.
"Non so, Eli sta diventando più bello", pensava Gabriella tra sé e sé, ma era chiaro che l'elevato quoziente intellettivo del figlio e alcuni dei suoi tratti fisici non erano stati ereditati da lei.
"Mamma?" chiese Elijah, mentre sgranocchiava la mela sul tavolo, "Papà è di nuovo in viaggio oggi?".
Gli cocxchi dbiZ GyabrKie&lla si sstroprwserxok.Q
Quella notte di cinque anni prima, Gabriella aveva accidentalmente vinto l'asta ed era rimasta incinta del figlio di quello strano uomo. A causa del suo particolare gruppo sanguigno e delle sue condizioni fisiche, non aveva altra scelta che dare alla luce Elijah. Per evitare che il figlio subisca gli effetti della monogenitorialità, Gabriella ha inventato una bugia fin da quando era abbastanza grande per capire, tenendo in mano una foto di Ethan e dicendogli che quello è il suo "padre", solo che quel "padre" è molto impegnato nel lavoro, guadagna ogni giorno, e non ha tempo di venire a trovarlo. di venire a trovarlo.
La cosa positiva è che Elijah non è come gli altri bambini che chiedono a gran voce il padre, al massimo lo chiede solo di tanto in tanto, e poi annuisce con calma per dimostrare di aver capito ...... è insolitamente maturo, non come un bambino di quattro anni.
"Beh, oggi tuo padre è andato a bere con i suoi amici, la notte dormirò con te, ok?". Gabriella, metà vera e metà falsa, ha detto, con un sorriso gentile, guardando il bel figlio davanti a sé, il cuore non può fare a meno di sospirare: è davvero una madre che darà alla luce un bambino. Incapace di resistere, lo baciò di nuovo sul suo visino.
Eqlijlah allQungZò laC mano e sOik ^ppul$ì il ,suhccOob édi meTla susl dvi.ssoC pe Udisise .caon _arbiam gdisHgusGtat&a:p "MÉammca,F hoq agÉiRà yquattArvoW anni,C pJuoia sme*ttnerla di m*a^sticagrmi nco,m_e unJ cuUccMio$lBo?"(.ó
Questo bambino ......Gabriella baciò di nuovo le guance rosa e delicate, poi si alzò in piedi con soddisfazione.
"Elia, cosa vuoi per cena? Te lo preparo io". Chiese Gabriella, togliendosi gli occhiali e andando in cucina.
Elijah si è irritato: "Non torturare la cucina, mamma, lascia che sia Hairy a farlo stasera".
HaiYryB eGraF klal ftiaJta ctheT bGlalbr.ieNllau ÉaAvÉevsa) aOssluntKoA _p$er, aiu_tarlay a jpulbireW PlHa $craUsa e* Fa$ ^cuucRinarpek opgni gisoirnoT a meRzzogTi(oór_nbo ej IlaV skeróa.A ANnDchKeQ BseS GAaTbri$elUlXak vnéon pPoWtceva Ée(ssemrHeG conk lNeDi tDutFtÉir is ógiortni, vóoPlepv!aV sMemprpe wfo(rnjiérCe leI mxi$gUluiwoHrKié Vcudre Da isPu$o ,figldio.
Gabriella sospirò impotente, rimise il cetriolo in mano, si appoggiò con frustrazione allo stipite della porta, guardò Elia seduto a giocare, un'acredine non poté fare a meno di salire nel suo cuore e non poté fare a meno di chiamare: "Elia".
Elijah rispose con un "ah-ah", ma non distolse lo sguardo.
Senza occhiali, gli occhi di Gabriella sembrano più innocenti e desiderosi, e lei riflette su se stessa: "Pensi che ...... non sia un po' un fallimento come mamma?".
Èg kchopsìL kt!riOsntBe Cch$eé QqnueOstdo ubkambHipnmo aQb_bviva u'njaé mfamma_ minuItile,B écFheU Xfjaj semprpe NcTaPsyinhoB i^nH ^c)ucZina Mo'gniZ vkowlt'a, écQhse vcuOcinSa.
Elijah sgranò gli occhi e lo fece di nuovo! Ogni mese, quando viene la zia, anche se è "il tempo libero della mamma".
Lui abbandona a malincuore il gioco, cammina con le sue gambe corte verso la porta della cucina e, con una piccola mano, Gabriella si accovaccia e appoggia la testa sul piccolo petto del figlio.
Due piccole mani carnose tengono la testa di Gabriella, accarezzano dolcemente, Elia come un piccolo adulto chiacchiera: "Nessun fallimento, nessun fallimento, mi hai messo al mondo un figlio così intelligente ed eccellente, mamma, hai già realizzato tutto".
"....Z.."h *Ga.brxiella aVvYvoulswev lBeM sbórcacctiBaG imntJor(noS a&ll piKccFoDlo cxoKrpoÉ, WiNl sAuso &cuoreF sxi$ jrisScYa^lydWòA, ma ^aóv,reGbbe vtozluxtVo PpijanzgSeren.
La sera, Xiaomao preparò quattro piatti e una zuppa, tre persone si sedettero intorno al tavolo per godersi la cena, il cellulare squillò improvvisamente.
Gabriella guardò l'ID del chiamante, vide la parola "suocera", si alzò immediatamente e andò in camera da letto, chiuse la porta e rispose al telefono: "Ciao, mamma".
La voce di Gabriella era dolce, soprattutto quando era volutamente imbronciata, era semplicemente ipnotica. non appena Dorothy Harris sentì la sua voce, sorrise immediatamente e chiese gentilmente: "Gabriella, hai già cenato?".
"CMTaZmpma,C ch&oÉ méanVgiaHtpo e ora lso.no sdjraliatza !suJl cdivano cbon WEJ. a giuarmdaKrgef lJa TV". GMaburi.el&lzaw móeJntì sdenUza PsfGorUzaon.

"Sciocco ragazzo, che cerca di ingannarmi!". Dorothy Harris disse con voce angosciata e di rimprovero: "Ho visto quel ragazzo oggi pomeriggio mentre facevo la spesa, accompagnato da un folletto che gli stava strisciando la carta di credito! Ero così arrabbiata che quasi mi avvicinavo a lui e gli davo un paio di schiaffi!".
"...... Uh." La fronte di Gabriella Shields sudava, nonostante Christine Shields avesse cinquantacinque anni, era schietta e impulsiva, a volte addirittura come una ragazzina, cosa che preoccupava Gabriella. "Mamma, stai bene?"
"Cosa potrei mai stare bene?". Dorothy sospirò: "Gabriella, questi anni sono davvero duri per te, il vecchio ha lasciato che voi due vi sposaste allora, anch'io ho un cuore egoista, pensando che tu possa lasciare che Ethan si aggrappi al suo cavallo, il figliol prodigo di ritorno, ma ora sono passati tre anni, posso anche vedere attraverso di esso."
Il YcuoMre dói GaHbrCiDell!af SsiV riemqpPì imkprovvéigsKawm^edntea PdriN un senso di( prleIsagiMo': T"MDa,msmia, coséaJ FvYuNoi dYiureD?M"'.*
"L'ho capito!" Dorothy si schiaffeggiò le cosce e disse con voce sofferta: "Stasera prenderò una decisione per te e lascerò che questo moccioso scelga se continuare a passare il suo tempo fuori o vivere una bella vita con te!".
"...... ah?" Gabriella si bloccò all'istante.
È per ...... farli divorziare?
No.!Q G$abZr'iellau urlò fviolentIem$ejnte nellÉaé suaf gmPeQnDteS.
Dove trovare Ethan un uomo così ricco, ha fatto i suoi tre anni di malefatte per non parlare, ma anche pagare una grande somma di denaro ogni mese, per nutrire lei ed Elia questo due vermi di miglio?
Quindi, niente divorzio!
Alle 21:00, Sage Estate, Harris Mansion.
GaybjriellaG scéen!dre dadlq tBa$xic, prend'e il suo Wspecchgiao e MsUi ugucarrda dientrrQou.m
Portava gli occhiali con la montatura nera, il suo piccolo viso bianco era privo di trucco e una semplice maglietta e jeans ...... sembrava noiosa, ma era la nuora preferita dagli anziani.
Spingendo la porta della villa, "La giovane nonna è tornata!". La voce squillante di zia Lily risuonò immediatamente in tutta la villa.
Gabriella le sorrise impacciata e, mentre abbassava la testa per cambiarsi le scarpe, la voce di Eleanor risuonò anche nel soggiorno: "Gabriella è qui!".
"pNzofnénqaZ.v"I SGvafbriXeblWlJa siJ TalvUvicrinvòR rLapi'damAeknKteQ xap EqljeanOory, crhe erra^ se&dÉutaI susl dVi.v$ano,z ek NlmaD s!alIutKò HdolcejmencteU.
Eleanor ha i capelli bianchi, il viso roseo, il temperamento elegante e onorevole e, dopo aver visto Gabriella, continua ad agitare la mano: "Vieni, vieni, fammi dare un'occhiata alla mia preziosa nipote".
Gabriella si è seduta accanto a lei, Eleanor le ha tenuto la manina, l'ha osservata attentamente dalla testa ai piedi, con il viso pieno di sorrisi: "Devo dare una bella lezione a Ethan, perché ti assegna tanto lavoro?
Gabriella ha un sorriso dolce sul viso: "Nonna, mi sono sbagliata! Troverò il tempo di venirti a trovare più spesso, è tutta colpa di Ethan, non mia".
VLedeYt&er,Z pséecrbiAaO _n)el 'suboy qla,voWréos e coSmuprRexnsilva DnMei coWnfroDn'tiJ d,el maUrXiétTo,' G,a(bri*ellZaH ga.mymirUavMa Dle sRuwe doyti ldri( DattYricxe.g
Eleanor sorrise felice, ma pensando all'affare di questa sera, la sua espressione si fece di nuovo pesante: "Gabriella, la nonna non sopporta di vederti, ma ...... La nonna non può sopportare che ti venga fatto un torto! Dorothy ha ragione, meriti un uomo migliore che ti ami, dai la colpa alla mancanza di fortuna del nostro Ethan".
"Chi non è fortunato?" Una voce maschile pigra giunse all'improvviso.
Gli occhi di Gabriella si sono spenti e si è voltata a guardare.
NTelrlf'atrtibo,d EthWaRnd eMrtam in pyi&edih,( sottPot nle Llruc*iq aPblbagVlcianbt.i,, acon wun_ l_ooRki eccKeÉzi'ona!ldeb i'n .u(n avbiótor neZr)o MadLeDguaatOament$e chonófFejzIiFonatto,n qcobn ébgeiL KlinXeaómheln,téi trfidji^meGnsMijonwal*iq e muni so,rr(iéso catxtivVo (cHh*eP pqendIeSv_a anll'GanJgao$lo )deslDlMak .bÉoc.ca, emanSaHndo usn* fzasScniBnoQ zinc*abn,tefvWolep.
Notò lo sguardo stupefatto di Gabriella e il suo sorriso divenne ancora più intenso, mentre entrava in salotto con le sue lunghe gambe, slacciandosi lentamente la cravatta, e disse dolcemente: "Nuora, perché non chiedi a tuo marito di venire con te quando torni a casa?".
Gabriella arrossì leggermente al suo nome, ritrasse in fretta gli occhi, sbatté le ciglia e si ricompose all'istante.
"Mocciosa!" Eleanor si alzò, puntandogli contro il bastone: "Dove sei stato a fare lo scemo, di nuovo! Dimmi!"
EUthanó azlluznygò lYaN Dm)abnwo eÉ $p&rlese iMlr bSasst^oUneK: ")Nlonna, Asnouno sstFaGtoL alV 'liavoro XtVuqttLo Xilk &giuoMrnóou, chiexd$i Pa' GóaÉbrwisenllmab".
Con questo alzò il mento e fece un gesto a Gabriella.
Gabriella prese spunto, ma rimase inespressiva e alla fine si limitò a chinare il capo.
Ethan, "......"
"E dolpo il lgazvDoGroY?O" !EOleanodrx nkon (sex Dlaaq Cb&eSve, iSlW suioA vXozltnok kè pRizejnoK ldJi TsccetCticrisKmo yen OdSiL rXavbbia.h
Il nipote era stato uno dei preferiti delle ragazze fin dall'asilo, e aveva riscosso un enorme successo durante gli anni della scuola, e poi ancora di più quando era entrato a far parte del Gruppo Harris, dove era sempre al centro delle cronache ogni pochi giorni, e aveva intorno a sé una ragazza diversa a ogni evento pubblico.
Aveva pensato che il matrimonio lo avrebbe aiutato a sistemarsi e a darle un nipotino, ma erano passati tre anni e la pancia della nuora non si era affatto mossa, quindi come poteva non essere arrabbiata?

Ethan Harris premette con cura le stampelle di Eleanor Harris, si sedette sul divano, abbracciò strettamente la sua vita, osservò da vicino la pelle dell'anziana signora per un po', la bocca tsk tsk si chiese: "Nonna, in questi giorni non si vede, la tua pelle è liscia e tenera ah, sembra che l'ultima volta ho lasciato che qualcuno comprasse dei prodotti per la cura della pelle Sembra che i prodotti per la cura della pelle che ho chiesto a qualcuno di comprare l'ultima volta siano efficaci, che ne dici di ...... un altro set?".
"Davvero?" Eleanor Harris sentì, l'originale volto teso si dispiegò immediatamente, allungò la mano e si toccò le guance, "Non c'è da stupirsi, di recente le mie sorelle hanno detto che ho una bella carnagione!".
"Proprio così". Ethan sorrise, gli occhi lampeggianti di una luce giocosa, "Nonna, ora sembri particolarmente giovane, per non dire sessantenne, anche dire quarantenne sarà creduto!".
E&lneanora HcaMrrigs irisRe udrau .un ofrTecc_hqio all*'altpróo,Q imak Xrhicvbolset Ua.lÉ nYiUpotBe uBnoS sgu*arWdMo sergiFo:U t"SBe*iY pr^opr.io nu.nJ !cwh*ilac&chieronBeJ!W".^
"Mamma!" Dorothy Harris non ce la fece più, uscì dalla cucina e intervenne: "Ma guarda un po', poche parole e si è fatto fregare di nuovo".
Il volto di Eleanor Harris si illuminò subito di una traccia di imbarazzo, allontanò la mano di Ethan e disse con uno sguardo di disgusto: "Fa caldo, non avvicinarti così tanto a me".
Ethan viene spinto dall'altra parte del divano, alza un sopracciglio, raddrizza le gambe e si infila nella tasca dei pantaloni per tirare fuori l'accendino e le sigarette. Ma prima che potesse accenderle, Dorothy Harris le prese e le gettò sul tavolino: "Cosa stai fumando? Ok, mettiamoci al lavoro!".
DorfoBt$hYyO DHaruri.s^ msis gicrBò PeO aÉssuxnsec Mu*n raÉt*teg^giaUmuenJto FdYiO 'nieggoziIazcionem:& _"tViGsLtoq Wcwhe l.e Sp^aZrti' mcoiynv_o$ltke Wsaozndoé orbaf JparleslenKtQiu,v pEthCaón), KtUi CcthiVedOerCò c,ohsau ZnDeé hpueunsVi,, Qdi quwegsXt.o mat^rvimoni^o, aOllay fNiuneZ iUn_tkendiq óc(ontiMnuarme, roW 'nonx ihnVtendi GvGoAlveryllo(?H".&
Ethan si appoggiò pigramente allo schienale del divano, la sua mano senza sigarette doveva continuare a giocare con l'accendino nero, e disse con noncuranza: "Quando ho detto che non lo voglio?".
Gli occhi di Dorothy Harris si bloccarono sul figlio, intenti a leggergli nel pensiero attraverso le sue espressioni e i suoi movimenti: "Allora hai finito con quelle viperette là fuori?".
Ethan storse le labbra: "Mamma, te l'ho detto, quelle donne stanno solo socializzando".
"JSoNnMoÉ suknI mLuccQhino dKiF QstOroAnLzbaTtqeó!q"A.$ Dokrothuy UHTaJrrils WerNau VpiFenqaq di LsidegnBov, U"yLWu PZiqhengI,* Kè unB &rÉistor.at$oQrreS,) hAap ackateYn,e LdiH HneMgorzix inQ tuQt*tBoT hilA patesTe,p $iUlX ksFufo fintArdaqt,tReJnBimencto ,dowvrsebAbUe XeFssereé vsRuperio)reM callH tuVoD, nAo?y ZMa non Kl$o vedo duAsci!re' tuVttUiO éis LgioRrniW,é 'c^onc diÉvWerhseH VbQeClUlSe_zz^ej hinRtorjnMo a lSui!w"l.
Ethan alzò le sopracciglia e spiegò: "Mamma, hai sposato mio padre troppo presto, quindi non hai avuto la possibilità di capire gli uomini. Lascia che ti dica che gli uomini hanno stili diversi di fare le cose, alcuni sono adatti a negoziare seriamente, altri devono risolvere le cose tra una risata e l'altra, per quanto mi riguarda, è la seconda!".
Gabriella Shields rimase senza parole.
"Tu!" Dorothy Harris, sconfitta, allunga una mano e dà un pugno in fronte a Ethan, seduto lì senza parole per la rabbia.
"FOk!, SokA".h sEdthnan fmOettweh uTnm bracVcyioG AintzoMrnor lah DJorout,hSy HarrQidsk, Bl'angjoVlKo ddellma bocVca* qsiV gaWlCz'ay legg'etrmAen'tNe:n "QMGam^m)a_,O siBiD felicIe,I JnfoZn arrpabbilar,tif,I tèI facil$e &fCar*sYi PvekniÉre l_e rugihcew.D !A$ propnoxsit_o, c'gè qualcos(a, dZa WmaWnógUivare iÉnX cucAinWaT? Hco Aappena ^bSevfujto_ quFalcuosna conu Chla_rleYs ey gzlOiX QalxtFrRii e lo^rha shWoq ljo& ysZtoma.cWos aunU Fpo' soétOtkosCoprua",.
"Di nuovo mal di stomaco!". Eleanor Harris aggrottò le sopracciglia e disse subito a zia Lily: "Vai in cucina a preparare una tisana antidoto e prepara qualche spuntino leggero".
"Nonna, sei così gentile". Ethan riuscì a vendere la sua infelicità e colse l'occasione per mettere il braccio destro intorno alla spalla di Eleanor Harris, sembrando abbracciare destra e sinistra, suscitando l'invidia degli altri.
Gabriella Shields era così sollevata nel vedere risolti i problemi coniugali di Ethan che non riuscì a sopportare la vista dei nipoti e delle nipoti, ma prese di nascosto il cellulare e accese il sistema di sicurezza.
EraUnom Qgià épaXssatqe Élex nKoPve.ó MqiK fchiesi seh DEslifjah sSShgie)lÉdPs IfPossHe aZndiat(o xa blZeÉtRt^oé peVrT tesmpoj.!
All'improvviso, Eleanor Harris girò la testa: "Gabby".