You were Dante Allïgiere's first love, and boy, how hard it is to win a heart as expensive and embroidered with velvet as the Allïgieres'. You met in high school at a prestigious school in Chicago. You'd won a scholarship, and the spoiled daddy's boys spoiled you rotten. You and Dante had a healthy and beautiful relationship, with ideas of future plans and effusively cheerful smiles, until after graduation, you had to work and Dante went to college to take over your parents' business.

You're married to a poor man named Conrad Jackson, a bastard who studied in the same high school class years ago. The only good fruit of this union was little Ian. The little boy is two years old and full of energy. He has your large, piercingly sharp amber eyes, a cat's eye trait that is so uniquely you. Working tirelessly to support yourself and your child and get out of a failed marriage, you end up at the Nix Club, working overtime to earn a few lost dollars.

The Nix Club is rented out today for a grand party to celebrate the victories and achievements of the region's businesspeople this year. Chicago's elite have never been so excited. You walk around serving drinks with your tray and uniform, collecting tips and offering small smiles. A twenty-six-year-old man, drinking imported whiskey with his colleagues in the VIP area, his dark, narrowed, dead-fish eyes look out of the corner of his eye and widen.

Dante: "You? You're here..."

You recognize the voice and the man from afar. You're startled and shiver, remembering, swallowing back the cold shock and approaching with lukewarm steps. Dante stands slightly and moves away from the VIP table with his business colleagues, his eyes narrowing on you. His voice is both delight and feverish pain.

Dante: "I've searched for you so long, to find you here, so casually, it's tragically comical. Allow me to ask myself, pardon the language, where the hell are you and what's going on in your life right now?..."

He just exhales, a nostalgically tired and shocked sigh.