I'm Going Back To The Modelling Industry

Morana's Point of View

As the car sped away from the suffocating confines of the house I once called home, I finally allowed myself to exhale. The air seemed fresher, freer, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't holding myself together for someone else's benefit.

Grandpa Adam was sitting beside me, his sharp eyes watching me with curiosity and something like pride. I could feel the questions bubbling up in him even before he spoke.

"So," he started, his tone casual but loaded with meaning, "what made you finally decide to come to your senses and leave that madhouse?"

I tilted my head slightly, pretending to think. "Half the truth or the whole truth, Grandpa?"

He chuckled, his laugh rich and familiar, like home. "Let's start with half and see if you slip the rest in by accident."

I smirked and leaned back in my seat, staring out the window. "I want to recover everything they stole from Mom and me. And honestly, I was just… tired. Tired of pretending, tired of enduring. That house is a cage, and I'm done being their prisoner."

His face softened, but he didn't coddle me. That wasn't his style. Instead, he nodded knowingly. "About time, Angel. I was starting to think you'd lost the fight in you."

"Oh, please," I said, rolling my eyes playfully. "Like I'd let them win."

"That's my girl," he said with a grin. "You're too smart to let those leeches walk all over you."

I laughed lightly, the sound surprising even me. "Well, someone had to remind me."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied me. "I missed you, you know."

I glanced at him, my chest tightening slightly. "I missed you too, Grandpa. I'm sorry it took me so long to reach out."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Better late than never. Besides, I always knew you'd come back. Stubbornness runs in the family."

"Must be from your side," I teased.

He raised a brow. "Careful, Angel. I might take back that villa I promised you."

I gasped dramatically. "You wouldn't dare!"

We both burst into laughter, the kind that made my stomach ache and my eyes water. For the first time in years, I felt… normal. Like I had someone who genuinely cared about me without expecting anything in return.

But then, as if he couldn't help himself, Grandpa Adam's face turned serious. "What about Davian?"

The name hit me like a slap, but I kept my face neutral. "What about him?"

He frowned. "That boy isn't good for you. I've told you before, and I'll say it again. He's a snake, Angel. He's cheating on you."

I stared out the window, my gaze fixed on nothing in particular. My chest tightened, but I didn't let it show. After a moment, I smiled—a small, dangerous curve of my lips. "Don't worry, Grandpa. He'll get what's coming to him."

Adam studied me for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "You're planning something, aren't you?"

I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "Me? Plan something? I'm hurt, Grandpa."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You've got that look in your eyes. The same one your grandmother used to get when she was about to teach someone a lesson."

I shrugged, a sly smile playing on my lips. "Let's just say… karma has a way of finding people like Davian."

"Well," he said, leaning back with a grin, "remind me never to get on your bad side."

"Smart man," I quipped, and we both laughed again, the tension from earlier melting away.

30 minutes later, as the car turned into the long, tree-lined driveway of my grandfather's villa, a wave of nostalgia washed over me.

The towering oaks on either side of the path seemed like sentinels guarding a sacred sanctuary, their branches interlocking to create a canopy that dappled the ground with patches of sunlight.

The sight tugged at something deep within me, a memory of a happier time when life was simpler, and love wasn't so conditional.

When the car came to a smooth stop in front of the sprawling mansion, I barely had time to take in its grandeur before a man in a crisp suit appeared by my door. He opened it with a slight bow, his voice warm yet formal.

"Welcome, Miss."

I smiled at him—a real smile, not the polite, forced one I had perfected over the years—and stepped out. My shoes crunched against the gravel as I straightened my shoulders and walked beside Grandpa Adam toward the house.

As soon as we stepped inside, the familiar scent of sandalwood and lavender hit me, and my chest tightened.

The grand foyer was exactly as I remembered: the polished marble floors gleamed under the light of an ornate crystal chandelier, and the sweeping staircase with its mahogany railings curved elegantly toward the second floor.

Large paintings of landscapes and portraits of ancestors adorned the cream-colored walls, giving the place an air of timeless sophistication.

"This house hasn't changed, Grandpa," I said softly, my voice filled with awe as my fingers grazed the cool marble of the banister.

Grandpa Adam smiled, but there was a melancholy edge to it. "It reminds me of your grandmother," he said, his voice tinged with sadness.

"She chose this design herself. Every corner, every detail… it was all her vision."

I turned to him and saw the weight of his loss etched into his features. Without a word, I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his shoulder.

"I'm here now," I whispered, hoping it would bring him some comfort.

He patted my back gently, his voice soft. "You always were the one who could make an old man feel young again."

After a moment, he pulled back and cleared his throat, his tone brightening. "Come now, let's get you settled in."

He called out, and a middle-aged woman with a warm smile hurried over.

"Maria, take Morana's bag to the room we've prepared for her."

Maria nodded, taking the bag from me. "This way, Miss," she said, gesturing toward the grand staircase.

I followed her up, pausing halfway to glance back at Grandpa. He stood there, hands clasped behind his back, watching me with a look of pride that made my heart swell.

The second floor was even more breathtaking than I remembered. The plush red carpet muffled our footsteps as we walked down a corridor lined with gilded mirrors and intricate vases. When Maria finally stopped in front of a door and opened it, I gasped.

The room was a dream. Soft pastel tones of cream and gold bathed the space in warmth. The large four-poster bed, draped with sheer curtains, was surrounded by elegant furniture that spoke of luxury and taste.

Sunlight streamed through tall windows adorned with lace curtains, casting a golden glow over the room.

"It's exactly as I remembered," I murmured, stepping inside, "except… it's even better. New designs, new furniture…"

Maria smiled. "Your grandfather made sure it was perfect for you, Miss."

I turned to her, gratitude brimming in my eyes. "Thank you, Maria."

She nodded and excused herself, leaving me alone. I opened my small bag and sighed. The clothes I brought with me were nothing but the hideous, cheap ones they had bought for me. No matter—I'd deal with that later.

After a quick shower, I changed into one of the least offensive outfits and made my way back downstairs. The dining room was as grand as the rest of the house, with a long mahogany table that could easily seat twenty. Grandpa Adam was already at the head of the table, waiting for me.

"Come, sit," he said, patting the seat beside him.

I sat down, and as we began to eat, the conversation flowed naturally.

"So," he started, cutting into his steak, "tell me what life has been like for you these past few years."

I hesitated, unsure how much to share. "It's been… a challenge. But I'm here now, and that's what matters."

He raised a brow, clearly unimpressed with my vague answer. "A challenge, huh? From what I hear, it's been more like a battlefield. Don't sugarcoat things for me, Angel."

I chuckled, appreciating his candor. "Alright, Grandpa. It was hell. But it's over now, and I'm ready to move forward."

"Good," he said firmly. "You're stronger than they are, Morana. Don't ever let them make you feel otherwise."

We talked about everything and nothing—his travels, my childhood memories, the little things we missed about each other's lives. It felt like patching up old wounds, one stitch at a time.

Then, he leaned back in his chair, studying me. "So, Angel, now that you're here, what's your first step?"

His question jolted me. My mind raced as I considered my options, but one thought rose above the rest. My career. The thing they had tried to strip from me.

"I need to rebuild my career," I said with quiet determination. "Start from scratch if I have to. I'm going back to the modeling industry."