golden ruin

[camillacaravelli]

SPOTTED: CAMILLA CARAVELLI in new york city! heard the THIRTY ONE year old belongs to THE MOB  as a INTERNAL POWER BROKER. word on the streets is that they can be CHARISMATIC, RESILIENT, but they can also be VINDICTIVE, MANIPULATIVE.

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒.

name. Camilla Caravelli nicknames. Cami birthday. July 26 zodiac sign. Leo birth place. New York father. Enzo Caravelli mother. Nicoletta Caravelli siblings. Nico Caravelli, Romeo Caravelli time in new york. entire life occupation. Managing Director of Mergers & Acquisitions at Caravelli Financial Group| Internal Power Broker for Mob character inspiration: Beth Dutton (Yellowstone), Serena Van Der Wodsen (Gossip Girl), Princess Eleanor (The Royals), Angela Norris (Landman)

𝐓𝐋;𝐃𝐑

Youngest—and only—daughter of Enzo and Nicoletta Caravelli.

Two older brothers, Nico & Romeo Caravelli

Raised inside one of New York's oldest financial dynasties — publicly revered, privately violent.

Enzo ruled home and empire identically. His children were subjects. The family image was sacred. His enforcement of both was not theoretical.

Nicoletta coped by disappearing into pills and liquor, battling addition for most of Camilla's life.

She attended Columbia, then Yale School of Management.

Returned to New York after graduation as Managing Director of M&A, specializing in hostile takeovers and corporate dismantling. A company killer.

Co-owns Castillo Caravelli Collection with Celestina Del Castillo. Oversees global luxury real estate and hospitality ventures.

Operates as the internal power broker for the mob.

Her priorities are brutally simple: family, her boyfriend, and money. Everything else is peripheral.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

Enzo hated the smell of cigarette smoke in the house, and because of this Cami has become an unapologetic chain smoker.

She drinks more than she probably should, though she keeps herself composed in public—the way she was raised to.

Lives in an Upper East Side penthouse with Celestina, who is the closest thing she has to a sister.

Owns an obscene Birkin collection and is rarely seen wearing anything else and often wears So Kates to work because she likes the height advantage.

Signature scent: Tom Ford Vanille Fatale

At fifteen, Enzo struck her across the face and left her with a scar that runs from the top of her cheekbone toward her under-eye area, a thin, pale slash that never fully disappeared.

Aslan is the only person she allows past every guarded part of herself. He is her stillness, her certainty, and her chosen soul in this life and every one that could follow.

A Devout Catholic when it suits her to be, yet she still attends Mass most Sundays, despite knowing exactly who she is.

Has a dachshund named Norman and a ragdoll kitten named Cashmere.

Sends monthly anonymous donations to animal shelters and domestic violence shelters.

Can’t sleep without background noise; silence still feels like waiting for her father’s footsteps.

When it comes to the people she loves, she is as ruthless as she is devoted.

When Cami sees a betrayal as personal, emotion can outrun strategy, leaving her slow to forgive, incapable of forgetting, and dangerously quick to retaliate.

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘.

Camilla grew up understanding power long before she understood love. As the youngest and only daughter of Enzo and Nicoletta Caravelli, she was raised in a house where affection was non existent and fear rooted itself in her long before she understood its shape. From her earliest memories, she knew danger lived in the smallest shift of her father’s voice, and that tenderness didn't exist within the walls of their estate. The Caravelli empire glittered in the public eye, a pillar of Italian-American wealth woven into the nation’s financial backbone. Reporters wrote about the family with reverence, mythologizing their empire, with each article reinforcing the legend of their influence. But behind closed doors, violence served as the family’s true language. Enzo ruled his organization with meticulous cruelty, and that same cold discipline shaped his home.

Her father’s wrath made no distinctions. His temper fell on her with the same force it did the rest of the household, shaping her childhood into a series of wounds she learned to hide rather than heal. She grew adept at standing straight after every blow, at turning fear into composure and hurt into silence. Her mother, worn down by years of the same abuse, drifted into numbness—pills, liquor, anything that softened the edges of her reality. Camilla never blamed her for disappearing into that haze. She understood that she had simply broken first under a man who shattered everything around him.

After high school, Cami followed in Nico’s footsteps to Columbia, and from there to Yale’s School of Management. The Ivy League was not a dream but an expectation that had been carved into her path. Still, she moved through those halls as though they had always been hers, outpacing those driven by ordinary ambition and fear, motives far smaller, and far simpler, than the one that drove her. A Yale MBA was the most efficient way to ensure that no one would ever again be allowed to dictate the limits of what she could become.

Returning to New York after graduation, Camilla became impossible to overlook—a force with the rare ability to alter the atmosphere of a room simply by entering it. She serves as Managing Director of Mergers & Acquisitions at Caravelli Financial Group, is co-owner of the Castillo Caravelli Collection alongside Celestina Del Castillo, and oversees a global portfolio of hotels, resorts, and ventures shaped in accordance with her exacting standards. Yet her influence extends far beyond legitimate enterprises. Within the Caravelli criminal underworld, she trades in secrets, reputation, and leverage. Where others spilled blood, she can unmake someone socially, financially, or politically, without ever leaving any visible trace of her hand

Enzo’s death handed her the empire on terms she could finally endure. With Nico as Don, the machine their father built became something she could shape rather than merely survive, and she set about pressing her will into it until its contours bore the unmistakable mark of her hand. Everything she has built since is an answer to the question Enzo spent her entire childhood trying to answer on her behalf. He had a fixed and rigid vision of what a Caravelli woman ought to be, at least in the eyes of the world. Camilla made it the work of her life to become something he could neither predict nor contain, and in that, perhaps more than anything else, she has succeeded completely.

However, for all her discipline, there is a recklessness in her that is neither accidental nor rare, and she knows it well enough not to bother denying it. She makes calls she could have delayed, picks fights she never needed to start, and when something she loves is threatened, emotion can overtake strategy with startling speed. Her retaliation is not occasional but habitual in such moments—swift, personal, and often irreversible. She has burned what she might have controlled, made decisions she could not undo, and borne the consequences in silence, because solitude is the only way she knows how to survive the aftermath of herself. She does not forgive. It is not affectation, nor some performance of cruelty, but something structural in her, rooted too deeply to be easily named and costly in ways she has never fully reckoned with.

Camilla is brilliant, formidable, and often her own most dangerous obstacle—sharp enough to wound, difficult enough to endure, and wholly uninterested in apologizing for any part of it.

[cleofms]

Location: some rich people brownstone party they would both attend For: @camillacaravelli

It’s the kind of party where everyone has gathered to drink and flirt and forget the ugliness going on in the city around them; a casual house party that is anything but. Cleo is perched on the kitchen counter. A spread had been laid, dip and crackers and wedges of cheese, little éclairs, but she isn’t impressed. Though Cleo is rarely impressed by anything. Still, she picks at the crackers, snaps it neatly between her teeth as she observes the party around her. She notes an old man with big ears and a toupee slapped on top of what she assumes is an otherwise bald head. After a moment, she leans toward a blonde next to her, eyes still on him. “Keep him off the terrace. One gust of wind, and it’s over.” Cleo oozes sarcasm like an infected wound, casual roll of her eyes hardly implicating any investment in the matter. “Society is too kind to men. I mean, we spend hours getting dolled up, meanwhile they scotch tape a toupee to their heads, throw on some uninspired suit and call it a day.” Pitching a sigh, eyes move over the blonde, who Cleo recognizes as Camilla Caravelli. Cleo isn’t surprised to see Camilla in a place like this. She wonders if, like herself, this was a “friend-of-a-friend” invite, or if Camilla actually knows whose brownstone she is in right now. “Life would be much better if we were a matriarchy, don’t you think?”

[camillacaravelli]

Cami’s gaze followed the line of Cleo’s attention toward the man in question, landing first upon the toupee and then his ears, both of which seemed to be engaged in separate competitions for dominance. For a moment, she said nothing, only allowing the rim of her glass to hover at her lips while the corner of her mouth threatened an upward turn she made no real attempt to suppress. “You’re generous calling that a suit.” Her comment came dryly though her eyes were still settled on the man across from them. “Because to me, it looks like he lost a fight with a Men’s Wearhouse and fucked the carpet on the way out.” The question prompted a faint hum from the blonde as she set her glass down beside the platter of crackers she had yet to touch, attention shifting back toward Cleo. “Maybe.” she finally answered, one shoulder lifting in the smallest shrug. “But I’ve met enough women to know we’d find a way to fuck it up too.”

[camillacaravelli]

@noxmourners Location: Cami office idk

The office had become easier to exist within than any room that required her to remember she was supposed to be grieving in a visible way. At least here, behind the closed glass door and the expanse of her desk, Cami could pretend there were still things capable of arranging themselves into order. Her attention remained fixed upon the iPad Elena had set in front of her, the headline from TMZ sitting above a paragraph that had managed to turn her brother's funeral into an exclusive story. For a moment, Cami only stared at the screen, gaze lingering on Romeo’s name where it sat between advertisements and a grainy photograph of their church taken from too far away. It should've made her angry. Perhaps it would eventually. For now, the reaction arrived muted, delayed by the part of her that still struggled to reconcile the fact that there was a funeral to leak in the first place. "The obituary hasn't even been posted and they already have funeral details." Was all that she said before her fingers slid the tablet back to Elena. "You know how they got this?"

[camillacaravelli]

@aslandurmaz Location: Cami & Cel Penthouse

The penthouse had looked exactly as it had the last time she'd been there, not that Cami had expected it to look any different. Celestina had remained at the hospital with Nico and the staff had gone home hours earlier, and so all that had been waiting for her upon walking inside was silence. The quiet seemed to occupy every inch of the space before she did, stretching from the entryway to the living room and further still toward the windows where the city carried on beyond the glass. There was nothing in the skyline that offered so much as a single visible acknowledgement that Romeo was no longer within it. In fact, there was no evidence at all that the world had even registered the absence that had rewritten hers in a matter of hours. Cami spent the entire ride home attempting to make sense of it, though each effort seemed to fold in on itself before it could become anything she understood.

She hadn't planned on coming home when she left the hospital, not really. It had just been the only alternative to remaining in that fucking place, where every face she looked at reflected the same sorrowed expression back until it became another thing she no longer had the ability to absorb. The sound of the front door reached her through the haze of her own thoughts, distant at first, though whatever detachment remained began to shift. There was something uniquely cruel about the way grief seemed to work, how it could remain suspended just beyond reach for hours only to crash down suddenly and all at once. It was then that she'd turned from the window and her eyes found Aslan, that the fragile structure she'd spent the entire night balancing began to give way beneath her. "Hi." It barely held together on the way out.

The distance between them suddenly felt unbearable. Her feet carried her forward before thought could intervene, closing the space with an urgency she couldn't have explained even if she'd tried. Every attempt to keep herself composed unraveled alongside each step, thread by thread, until there was nothing left to maintain but the sharp ache she'd spent hours avoiding and the sudden warmth running down her cheeks. The first crack had already formed by the time she reached him, though it lasted no more than a heartbeat before she moved into him entirely, her hands finding him first, followed by the rest of her as she buried herself against his chest.

[camillacaravelli]

@nicocaravelli Location: mom's house what can u

Maybe it was guilt that brought her to her mother's house for the first time since Romeo had died. Though whatever she'd expected to find upon arrival, had only left her feeling even more lost than she had before ever walking through the door. With no energy for conversation, Cami wandered into the kitchen with no real objective beyond movement, though somewhere between reaching the island and staring at the coffee machine built into the cabinet, she’d seemingly assigned herself a task. One that, as it turned out, had been designed with the sort of unnecessary complexity only a person who had never once been expected to make their own coffee would find difficult. Her gaze remained narrowed upon the lit panel while one hand rested against the edge of the counter, and the other hovering near a mug she had placed beneath the spout after a process of deduction that felt less certain by the second. The admission of that would have pulled some dry comment from her days ago about how overly fucking complicated the coffee maker was, however, now it simply sat unspoken alongside the rest of the things she couldn't quite seem to access.

The sound of footsteps entering the kitchen only pulled her attention once they’d come near enough to place, and even then, her glance over her shoulder held a slight delay, as though recognition itself had taken longer than it should have. Nico occupied the threshold a moment later, and for a beat, Cami said nothing. Her eyes moved from her brother back to the machine, then to the mug that remained entirely empty despite whatever effort she had apparently committed to the process. “I made coffee.” She said finally, the statement lacking the conviction it should've possessed for something so simple. A pause followed, long enough for her gaze to lower again while the faintest crease formed between her brows. “I think.”

[camillacaravelli]

@celestinadelcastillo Location: Aslan's Penthouse

Cami hadn't been avoiding people on purpose. At least, that wasn't how she would've categorized it if anyone had asked, though perhaps the distinction mattered only to her. It was more so the lack of energy required to deal with anyone at all that had kept her within the walls of the penthouse over the last few days. Whatever sadness had crashed into her the night she'd left the hospital had seemingly retreated somewhere beyond reach, leaving in its place a numbness that felt easier to function around. So she'd kept her mind occupied with contract after contract, the laptop balanced in her lap as she sat outside on the terrace, forcing her eyes across line items and clauses that blurred together the moment she stopped actively reading them.

What was probably her fourth cigarette in the last hour rested between her lips when her eyes caught the sight of Celestina walking out toward her. The movement of her gaze lingered for no more than a second before returning to the screen, as if that alone might convey some attempt at normalcy despite the obvious evidence to the contrary. "Santiago keeps sending me pictures of his cow." Was the first thing out of her mouth. Only then did she remove the cigarette from between her lips, holding it between two fingers as her exhale left in something too thin to be considered a laugh and too tired to be anything else. "But it's kinda fucking ugly."

[aslandurmaz]

"Could you send it to me?" The footage in order to soon show it to Cash. "Same thing across the board." In reference to the synchronicity of the team igniting the fires at six locations in one day. Each lining up along virtually the same pattern only reinforced the notion he'd been circling for weeks that the Pantheon was spinning their tires with no clear end goal visible from where he stood. Or none that he was meant to see yet. Though it wouldn''t dislodge that question of why that remained fixed at the back of his mind with a refusal to resolve and only amplified the burn of annoyance he felt towards the unknown entity.

However, it would swiftly be forgotten once his attention honed onto her. For Cami would always be the priority that sat at the top of his list - above everything and anything else that demanded his focus. His gaze, under no circumstance, strayed away from her with the way she shifted into him to seek a touch of comfort that he could provide. An action he could easily identify attached towards that conversation of her mother and one that would inevitably become an extension of the rest: her family and the long standing shadow Enzo Caravelli had cast on his daughter. Aslan couldn't claim to fully understand the cruelty the patriarch had enacted upon his children, even despite the way his own father could have shaken Enzo's hand over the question of controlling their children and called it a regular conception. Aslan's focus would remain on what he could read with fluency and that was the residue of it that lived within the woman he adored. That far off look that would occasionally surface in her eyes when she drifted toward some private remembrance, like watching a memory pass through smoke. A memory that he wished he could squash beneath his shoe akin to the way one would a cigarette.

With that thought, the actual cigarette in his hand was now being crushed out with the intent to free his hands of the burden. In turn, his arms moved around her, one slipping beneath her legs, the other firmly around her waist to lift her into his lap. It was an action that fulfilled the need to draw her closer, to have her fully in his presence rather than at his side. In the moments that came to her family, Aslan opted for silence - in his perspective, the reality would remain that it was not his place to interject at any point in time. His place was only for Cami, in whatever manner she required of him. "You going to see her today?" The purpose behind that was to ensure he'd clear whatever sat on his schedule afterward, to have the time to take her somewhere that pulled her mind off all of it. "Want me to come with you?"

[camillacaravelli]

she said ok i send u the footage <3 and then they make plans to go see her mom <3

the end

[camillacaravelli]

[charitydingle]

BRATZ: ROCK ANGELZ 2005

[camillacaravelli]

@celestinadelcastillo & @lottiesaab & @esradurmaz

[nicocaravelli]

Despite the conditional state his brother was in, as well as the impending pressure of the mental impact on his mother his appetite had not faltered. Not as his sister's had. It was his very programming to continue aside every single point weighing him down. Whatever he felt was pushed back far enough that it no longer registered. See, for Nico it didn't matter because it never had. He had thoughts, he had plenty and yet, barely even a fraction of those were ever voiced. It was simple for him, he only mattered for the cause he served. His family being one of. Romeo's actions that had led him to where he laid right now was one that annoyed Nico profusely, even if he remained as controlled as he ever did.

He shook his head lightly, subtly, a faint shrug came as his only movement interjecting his current need for food. "Guess so." that their brother had snapped, sure it may have come as more extensions than that, but Nico wasn't the type to take the long way around to get to his point. With his tone continuing to be lowered, specifically so only Cami could hear, he gave her more, "Lottie's dad. She's sorting it." and he had taken Romeo's word for that, finding no need to doubt it.

It was only as Cami had mentioned their brother taking their mother down with them that he nodded a couple of times faintly, agreeing. It was then he had nothing else to add, or say, he simply chose to enjoy the takeout before him. Though it was that detrimental impact plaguing his mind, the effect of how Romeo would be and how it was going to touch Nicoletta. In that moment he had already decided his check ins with his mom would only amplify because there was no way on this god given green earth that he'd sit here and let her find comfort in vices that had been her only way out of a life she never chose.

[camillacaravelli]

she said something something that's nuts

[endlessinspos]

[camillacaravelli]

@aslandurmaz

[camillacaravelli]

@emildelcastillo Location: Cami & Cel's Penthouse

Emiliano and Celestina had been considered family long before now, which meant Emil returning from Ibiza married was significant regardless of how catastrophically inconvenient the timing happened to be. And so, she figured the least she could do was reward the achievement. The actual gift itself had arrived hours earlier, however, since there wasn't exactly a practical way to personally hand deliver a fucking yacht to someone, she'd settled on a bottle of Armand de Brignac Midas and the keys.

Her hand remained loosely wrapped around the neck of the champagne bottle as she stepped into the kitchen as her eyes landed on him. “Your timing is fucking shit.” Cami mused dryly, though her amusement was evident in the subtle curve pulling at the corner of her mouth. "Hope you know that."

[camillacaravelli]

@esradurmaz Location: The Regent Club

Her phone sat on the table in front of her when the screen lit up with the newest headline. Caravelli nightclub owner hospitalized following heroic efforts during deadly fire. Opening the article, Cami skimmed it briefly just as the waiter appeared beside the table with their drinks. It seemed the media had already started building the narrative themselves, though in her opinion they were doing a half assed job of it. Which was exactly why she’d opted to place it in Esra’s considerably more than capable hands instead. If her brother was stupid enough to nearly kill himself running back into a burning building for some fucking strangers, then she wanted to ensure the public obsessed over him for it.

Her fingers tapped lightly against the stem of the martini glass now sitting in front of her. “I want him everywhere for the next two weeks.” The statement came evenly, her gaze briefly following the waiter until he disappeared before returning her attention fully to her friend. “Whatever bullshit feel good media angle you can think of.” A pause followed while she leaned back slightly into the booth, one brow lifting faintly as she continued. “Single handedly saved people from a fire while inhaling enough smoke to kill himself sounds tragic enough for middle America to get emotionally attached.” The corner of her mouth tipped upwards at the thought despite the complete seriousness behind it. “Basically, I want Romeo looking like the second coming of fucking Jesus by the time this dies down.”

[camillacaravelli]

@beecarmichael Location: The Plaza Hotel, The Palm Court Restaurant

The table she occupied sat toward the back of the restaurant, far enough removed from the rest of the dining room to ensure privacy without needing to explicitly request it. Six locations in one night, Giulietta’s among them, and truthfully, Cami was curious to know what exactly City Hall was doing about the current shit storm swallowing half the city whole. Because despite all of the carefully rehearsed statements continuously being fed to the public, none of it was convincing to her.

As the blonde reached the table, Cami signaled the server over with a small motion of her hand. "Bring me a Vesper Martini and whatever she’s drinking.” She ordered before gesturing faintly toward Bee. By the time the server disappeared back toward the kitchen with their order, Cami’s gaze had settled fully onto the woman across from her. “So.” Leaning forward slightly, she rested her elbows against the table surface, fingers loosely clasping together while the slightest trace of amusement threatened at the corner of her mouth. “How’s work been treating you?”

[camillacaravelli]

@rileyjustin Location: Cami's Office

The stack of reports spread across Cami’s desk had long since stopped resembling organized paperwork and shifted into something closer to a physical manifestation of annoyance. Between the fire marshall report and insurance documents it was all different version of the same fucking problem. The fires had consumed the better part of the last few weeks and at this point she was beginning to suspect the smell of smoke had permanently attached itself somewhere in the back of her mind.

Even now, with Justin seated across from her, her attention remained fixed on the surveillance image pulled up on the laptop beside her coffee cup. Jimmy Adams frozen mid frame outside Giulietta’s service entrance moments before everything went to shit. One hand absently reached for the cigarette that rested untouched beside the ashtray but she made no move to light it just yet. "Find anything?"

[celestinadelcastillo]

It went without saying that Celestina understood that fractured relationship with one brother. The kind that held a familiar quality of moving one step forward requiring a follow up of two back. Which, on all accounts, Cel wouldn't deign to lay blame on either of the two of them. That was reserved entirely for the brothers who seemed to possess a consistent impediment when it came to accessing their neural cortex.

Both brows lifted in an expression that conveyed she expected nothing else before the Ralph's cup found her lips. "The standard stuff for origin, fire spread pattern, accelerant type, time of ignition. But since the two deaths at Haus of Saab were ruled as homicide, the report for each location was examined under that scope." A pause to allow her to absorb the information. The club being examined as a potential crime scene rather than simply a fire site was a different category of exposure entirely. "In the clubs case, it's ruled as attempted homicide." Their prime suspect so far seemingly being James Adams. "And your guy, Jimmy, was spotted near one of my buildings on Lex. I'll show you the tape."

[camillacaravelli]

The shift in Cami’s expression was subtle, though enough to sharpen the neutrality she usually carried into something more focused. Her gaze lowered back toward the report in front of her, fingers sliding the iPad closer across the desk while her thoughts already began turning over the implications threaded through every line of it. “Well.” The word left her flatly. “That’s comforting.”

At the mention of Jimmy, however, something colder settled across her features entirely. The name alone was enough to reconnect every piece of footage she’d spent the last week staring at until the frames practically burned themselves into the back of her eyes. Three weeks employed at Giulietta’s only to conveniently disappear right after the fire. “Knew there was something off about that ugly motherfucker.” The words came absentmindedly while her attention remained fixed on the report before shifting toward her computer, fingers already moving across the keyboard to pull up the employment file attached to Jimmy Adams from Giulietta’s. Her fingers tapped once lightly against the side of the coffee cup before she leaned further forward in her chair, attention returning fully toward Celestina. “Let me see it.” The footage, that was.

[nicocaravelli]

The response from Cami, or more lack of, settled with no real acknowledgement. The softness that had carried his tone seconds prior had been for the benefit of their situation, and in turn it was one that faded out entirely. The churros currently invading his thoughts had made sure of that. It was Nico wondering why he didn't get a small tub of dipping chocolate as his hand dived into the takeout bag to no avail. He sighed as his attention pulled focus toward no point at all. "Not long. Seems to be holding it together." their mom had at least went into Romeo's room with a stable mindset, though what would come out afterwards was truly anybody's guess. The aftermath, however, were the thoughts and the near reality of what could have happened to Romeo which he knew would only consume every part of her mind. It was a reaction he was expecting, and so he assumed that his sister would no doubt think the same. Not that it needed mentioning, not when they moved on a similar wavelength.

"Yeah, he's a fucking cunt." he got his brother's perspective - or what it looked like from the outside, he could understand it but he could not sit here and pretend he'd show the same responses. Not when it came to risking his life for people he did not know. Family, however, Nico would lay his life down a thousand times over to ensure they were still standing. But that was different. "Think he's been stuck inside his head anyway," this was the start of him making sense of the insanity it took to run back into a burning building multiple times, and so he lowered his tone, "He killed a guy that reminded him of Enzo, now he's in a fucking hospital bed." he paused, just for a beat, "Fucker's gonna turn into mom."

[camillacaravelli]

At the mention of Nicoletta seemingly holding it together settled uneasily in the back of Cami’s mind, though not enough to fully detach her attention from the image still constructing itself every time her eyes drifted toward Romeo’s door. Hospitals had always possessed a particular ability to collapse time inward on itself. Sitting here now felt no different than being five years old again, waiting outside another room while their father's temper left behind bruises doctors were paid not to question too closely. The only difference now was that Romeo had walked himself directly into the fucking fire, more than once, instead of being pushed there by Enzo. Her gaze lowered briefly toward the untouched piece of taco still sitting between her fingers before she finally dropped it back into the wrapper altogether. Whatever appetite she thought she’d had was long gone.

A humourless scoff slipped from her in quiet agreement though the sound faded quickly once the rest of Nico’s words fully registered. Her attention shifted toward him completely now, confusion pulling faintly at her features. “What?” It was automatic. "Who?" There were already too many things moving through her mind at once and instinctively, she pushed half of them away before they could properly settle. “Like he just snapped or?” Her voice remained in a low whisper, concsious to remember where they were.

The comparison to their mother wasn’t something she acknowledged immediately, despite the weight of it pressing heavy beneath her ribs. Because the fear had already existed there long before now as if Nicoletta's sobriety had always felt like borrowed time. Fragile. Temporary. As if one terrible day could crack the entire thing open again and she’d be forced to watch their mother disappear the same way she had before. Romeo lying in a hospital bed now felt dangerously close to becoming that reason. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak again. "And fucking take her with him."