American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 159 Christmas

The Christmas morning light shone through the stained glass windows of the castle. Yet, this centuries-old Antonio family castle lacked any festive warmth.

For the current head of the household, Gianna Antonio, Christmas has never been a warm and cozy time for fireside chats.

In the cold marble corridor, servants were busy hanging the black and gold family banners on every Roman column; the kitchen was filled not with the sweet aroma of gingerbread, but with the savory smell of a whole roasted wild boar.

"At 10:00 AM sharp, all the leaders from Northern Italy will meet in the Bronze Hall," Ashley reported in a low voice, holding her tablet. "The Sicilian delegation just got off the helicopter and is having lunch in the Rose Hall."

She paused for a moment: "In addition, Mr. Vasily from Moscow specifically reminded me that he brought a special gift this year."

Jaina stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, her fingertips lightly tracing the frost that had formed on the glass.

For her black empire, today was a carefully crafted power show, allowing her henchmen scattered across Europe to witness firsthand that the Antonio family's throne remained as solid as a rock. She knew all too well how many simmering ambitions lay hidden behind those respectful hand-kissing gestures.

Seven deep chimes echoed from the distant clock tower, their sound waves reverberating between the ancient stone walls. Katalia held a black ebony vanity case in her hands, its surface inlaid with Australian black opal.

The Antonio Crown, which has been passed down for over a hundred years, lies quietly in the box.

On a base made of pure black platinum, twelve black pearls surround a huge pigeon-blood red gemstone. This crown, clearly designed for a male head, has never been questioned about its ownership since Jaina came to power.

Jaina walked slowly to Katalia, the hem of her dress trailing softly on the stone floor. Her fingers brushed across the crown as she turned to Ashley, who stood to the side: "You come here."

Those two simple words made Katalia's fingers, which were holding the vanity case, turn slightly white.

When Ashley stepped forward and picked up the crown, her eyes met Katalia's for a fleeting moment.

Jaina turned her back, revealing her slender neck through her falling light golden hair, a move that made everyone hold their breath.

In the ancient tradition of the Antonio family, only blood relatives or the spouse of the heir can crown the head of the family.

Katalia maintained her respectful posture, but the black opal on the dressing case reflected the resentment in her eyes.

The moment Ashley solemnly placed the crown in Jaina's hair, the servants all knelt down on one knee.

Only Katalia remained standing upright, her fingers, painted with scarlet nail polish, gripping the edge of the vanity case, her red lips pressed into a curve.

Jaina slowly turned around.

The moment she was crowned, her aura suddenly changed; her original elegant noblewoman demeanor was replaced by something older and more dangerous.

The shadow cast by the crown perfectly obscured her eyes and brows, revealing only her chin and her lips pressed into a straight line. When she looked up, the weight of the entire Italian underworld seemed to be concentrated in that gaze.

Katalia met Jaina's gaze.

Jaina's eyes held scrutiny and an unmistakable warning, like a lioness alerting a cat that had trespassed into her territory.

After a second of deathly silence, Katalia's knees slowly touched the ground, and the ebony box trembled slightly in her hands.

Ashley stood to Jaina's right, her back ramrod straight.

As she watched her arrogant rival kneel on the ground, her pent-up resentment dissolved into a sense of relief. With this ancient coronation ceremony, Jaina proclaimed an unshakeable order to everyone within the Antonio family. Ashley, as the designated heir and consort, had the right to stand beside the Queen; while Catalia, no matter how much favor she received, would forever remain kneeling below the steps.

This silent declaration is more binding than any legal document; in the Italian underworld, tradition is the ironclad rule.

Jaina's gaze swept across the room, finally settling on Ashley: "Walk beside me."

The Queen strode forward, her black velvet skirt trailing softly on the marble floor. As she passed Katalia, who was still kneeling, Jaina said, "You walk beside me too."

This second command caused all the servants to look at Katalia, who was kneeling on one knee.

The three-person formation began to move forward.

Ashley occupied the traditional right-hand position of Jaina, her chin slightly raised. A servant took the ebony box from Katalia's arms, and Katalia hesitated for a moment before walking to Jaina's left.

Jaina turned her head to the side, and under the cover of her crown, the light cast a shadow on her brow bone.

Without a word, Katalia understood that look.

She lowered her head, took two steps back, and circled around behind Ashley, finally standing half a step behind and to the right of Jaina. This delicate distance was neither side by side nor that of a follower, just like her perpetually ambiguous status in the Antonio family.

As the three passed through the archway, the candlelight cast their shadows on the stone wall: the Queen's upright back, the future matriarch's elegant silhouette, and that blurry silhouette that was always just a step behind.

When Beta appeared under the archway of the banquet hall, the halo of the crystal chandelier swept across his profile.

Among the crowd of people clinking glasses in the hall, only a few elderly members of the Antonio family showed knowing expressions. Those who had witnessed the bloody incident 29 years ago all looked away at this moment.

No one came forward to exchange pleasantries.

Before Jaina's official announcement, no one dared to show any extra attention to the young man with light blond hair. Several of his old subordinates who had participated in the "Cradle Incident" even turned their backs, treating Beta as if he were just a phantom in the air.

The banquet hall was filled with guests from all over Europe. A financial advisor from the Moscow Mafia clinked glasses with a banker from Zurich; an Albanian arms dealer conversed with a cardinal; and several Italian cabinet ministers stood by the champagne tower, their ties adorned with the coat of arms of the Antonio family.

Among these diverse faces, the one who should have been there most was missing—Santino Antonio, Gianna's younger brother.

Beta casually picked up a glass of absinthe from the waiter's tray, his icy blue eyes sweeping across the room.

John was not among the crowd, but Leon and Matilda stood out in the corner.

For the first time ever, Leon changed into a full custom-made suit. The dark gray three-piece suit should have made him look like a banker, but his sinister eyes still gave him the aura of a "professional killer," like a wolf forcibly dressed in a tuxedo.

Matilda wore a gothic-style black evening gown, the sheer skirt billowing gently with her movements. As the only minor in the banquet hall, she was even more eye-catching than Beta.

Beta took a sip of the liquor, the spiciness of the absinthe spreading across his tongue.

As the waiter passed by, Matilda tiptoed, swapped her drink for a glass of champagne, and made a face at Leon.

(End of this chapter)