"Madam!" Jesse called, her voice urgent as she entered the office.
Fransisca, seated behind her elegant mahogany desk, slowly swirled her chair around, her crimson nails tapping rhythmically on the armrest. Her cold eyes narrowed as they settled on her.
"Yes?" she said, her tone calm but watchful.
"Something is going on downstairs," Jesse said, glancing nervously toward the hallway.
Fransisca raised a brow. "What's that?"
She shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. "I think you have to come down to check, ma'am."
With a light sigh and a graceful rise, Fransisca smoothed the sides of her long silk robe and began walking, heels clicking sharply on the marble floor. Jesse trailed behind, unsure whether she had just delivered a minor irritation or something more dangerous.
As they reached the ground floor, she paused at the sight in front of her—and immediately scoffed.
"Gianna?" Her voice was sharp and incredulous. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Gianna stood tall in designer heels, wearing a fitted blazer and tight trousers that screamed money and pride, but her face betrayed frustration.
"I came to see you."
Fransisca's eyes flashed. She stepped forward, her posture intimidating. "Me? Did you miss your way?"
"No, Mother," Gianna replied quietly.
"I'm not your mother!" Fransisca snapped, her tone slicing through the air.
Gianna clenched her fists. "That girl called Blue, tell her to stay away from Quincy."
Fransisca's expression twisted into something between amusement and disdain. "Are you sending me on an errand, Gianna? Do you know who you're talking to?"
Gianna's pride wavered for a moment. "I'm sorry… Mother, you can let me in. I need to talk to her personally."
Fransisca folded her arms. "A woman cannot go into the courtesan house."
"But there are girls in there!" Gianna protested, her eyes wide. "At least you are managing the place—you can let me in."
"And why should I?" Fransisca stepped closer, her perfume rich and imposing. "Even if we were on good terms, I can't allow you in. We have rules in the courtesan house. A woman cannot go in, unless—"
"Unless what?"
"There are only three ways you can enter," Fransisca said with a wicked smirk. "Become a courtesan."
"Never!" Gianna gasped, stepping back like she'd been slapped.
"Become an escort," Fransisca added smoothly.
"Why would I be serving someone?" Gianna spat, her pride trembling under the insult.
Fransisca tilted her head with mocking sympathy. "Then become the owner."
Gianna narrowed her eyes. "How do I become the owner?"
Fransisca laughed softly, venomously. "In your dreams, girl." She turned around, her robe swaying as she started walking away. "Go back to where you're coming from. And stop making it hard for the security guards."
"I'm your family—you know that, right?" Gianna shouted after her, breath short with rage. "You can't put those courtesans over me!"
Fransisca turned halfway, her expression now full of scorn. "You are nothing compared to the courtesans. You can't even go where they fit. Why would I put you above them? They make money for me. You don't!"
Gianna's face flushed. "I'm your daughter-in-law."
Fransisca chuckled darkly. "I never accepted you. When you got married, did you see me there?"
Gianna's voice faltered. "You refused to show up—"
"No." Fransisca cut her off. "Your mother probably forgot to send me an invitation. I have no daughter-in-law, so you are not my family." Her voice dropped into a warning growl. "Leave the courtesan house if you don't want to be thrown out."
She walked off without another glance.
Gianna stood frozen, her face twisted in humiliation. Her perfectly painted lips trembled before she ground her teeth together and hissed under her breath.
"Damn you, Fransisca. I knew you'd support that stupid girl since you both belong in the same filth." She grabbed her purse tightly. "I'm going to deal with y'all one by one. Just wait."
And with fire in her heels, she stormed off, fury shaking her frame.