Black Grapes

The Dio mansion's hallway bathed in a brilliant orange glow, courtesy of the setting sun. This radiant light played upon Rosalie's cascading, wavy hair, igniting a fiery dance within each of her resplendent locks.

Her delicate, pallid hands quivered, gripping the edges of the letter tightly. Her striking gray eyes raced frantically over each word, etching a deepening shadow across her countenance with every passing sentence.

In a distant corner of the hallway, the maids had gathered, discreetly observing their mistress. She stood there in silence, her eyes the only part of her that moved, tracing the crumpled parchment in her grasp. As the oppressive hush and mounting tension grew too much to bear, their muted whispers at last found their way into the world, breaking the silence,

"Do you think it's bad news? She looks profoundly upset... Could something have befallen His Grace?!"