Chapter 3 - THE ROOM WITH THE BLUE CURTAINS
I stayed.
Not because I trusted Alessandro.
Not completely.
But because my head still hurt, my hands were bandaged, and I needed somewhere warm to sleep.
The estate was enormous.
Stone corridors.
Dark wooden floors.
Tall windows overlooking snow-covered fields.
There were guards at the gates, but inside the house, life moved quietly.
Rosa supervised the kitchen.
A gardener named Thomas maintained the greenhouse.
A young woman named Clara managed household supplies.
Nobody asked about Connor.
Nobody asked why I had arrived in the middle of a snowstorm.
For the first time in days, I could breathe.
My room had pale blue curtains.
A fireplace.
A reading chair beside the window.
And a small vase of white flowers on the bedside table.
Rosa told me Alessandro had ordered the flowers.
I didn't believe her.
“Mr. Mancini?” I asked.
She smiled.
“He notices more than people think.”
Three days after my arrival, I found him in the library.
He stood beside a large window reading a document.
I hesitated in the doorway.
“Am I interrupting?”
He looked up.
“No.”
I stepped inside.
“I wanted to thank you.”
“You already did.”
“I know.”
He waited.
I looked around the room.
Thousands of books lined the walls.
A grand piano stood near the fireplace.
On the mantel was a photograph of a little girl with dark curls.
She looked about five.
I smiled.
“Your daughter?”
Alessandro went still.
For a moment, I thought I'd offended him.
Then he said:
“My niece.”
I looked closer.
“She looks happy.”
“She was.”
The word hung between us.
Was.
I turned toward him.
“I'm sorry.”
He looked at the photograph.
“Her name was Lucia.”
My chest tightened.
“What happened?”
He was silent for a long time.
Then he said:
“She died in a car accident seven years ago.”
I swallowed.
“I'm so sorry.”
He nodded once.
Then returned to his papers.
The conversation was over.
But I couldn't stop thinking about the photograph.
A little girl.
A car accident.
A man who had stopped in a snowstorm to rescue a pregnant stranger.
Perhaps those things were connected.
That evening, I received another message from Connor.
I know you're alive. I saw the hospital charge on the insurance portal. We need to talk.
I stared at the screen.
Then typed:
You told me to leave. I need space.
His response came immediately.
You don't get to decide that alone.
My hands began shaking.
I deleted the message.
Then locked the phone.
May you like
Outside my window, snow began falling again.
And for the first time, I wondered whether Connor would come looking for me.
