“O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao.”

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Italy was breathtaking—every cobblestone street, every sunlit piazza, every gilded hall a reminder of how beautiful the world could be.

She was from France, a billionaire, though no one knew exactly how she’d made her fortune. Her parents weren’t rich. They weren’t famous. Yet here she was, moving through the palatial auction halls of Italy with the ease of someone who owned every eye in the room.

At these auctions, the richest of the rich spent millions on things as if they were mere trinkets from a thrift store. She blended in effortlessly, except she wasn’t blending in at all.

And then she bumped into him. A boy who probably had money too, but was here more for the thrill, for the swagger, for the chance to look cool in a room full of people who actually mattered.

All she said was “Enfoiré.”

And just like that, she walked away—billion-dollar necklace in hand, leaving chaos, disbelief, and a trail of questions behind her.

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Hi its my birthday so i made this