Chapter 6 - THE NIGHT THE POWER WENT OUT
The storm arrived without warning.
Heavy rain.
Thunder.
Wind strong enough to bend the trees along the driveway.
By nine o'clock, the mansion had lost power.
Emergency generators activated.
Most of the lights returned.
But the west wing remained dark.
I was reviewing treatment notes when Marco appeared at my door.
"Miss Fitzgerald."
I looked up.
"What's wrong?"
"Mr. Pascale is having trouble."
My stomach tightened.
"What kind of trouble?"
"He won't let anyone near him."
I followed Marco down the corridor.
Massimo was in his bedroom.
A lamp illuminated his face.
He was breathing rapidly.
His hands gripped the wheelchair rims.
"Massimo?"
He looked up.
His eyes were wild.
"Get out."
I stopped.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Are you having chest pain?"
"No."
I kept my voice calm.
"Can you tell me what's happening?"
He looked toward the window.
Thunder cracked.
He flinched.
And I understood.
The storm.
The darkness.
The sound of metal rattling in the wind.
Something had triggered memories of the accident.
I looked at Marco.
"Could you give us some privacy?"
He hesitated.
Massimo nodded.
Marco left.
I moved a chair nearby.
"Massimo."
He stared at the floor.
"I can hear it."
My chest tightened.
"Hear what?"
"The car."
I said nothing.
He swallowed.
"The tires."
His hands trembled.
"Sofia screaming."
I felt my throat tighten.
I spoke gently.
"You're in your bedroom."
He closed his eyes.
"Massimo, can you feel the chair beneath your hands?"
He nodded.
"Can you hear my voice?"
Another nod.
"Good. You're here, in the mansion. The accident isn't happening now."
His breathing slowly steadied.
I stayed nearby.
After several minutes, he whispered:
"I told her to come with me."
I looked at him.
"That night?"
He nodded.
"She didn't want to."
His voice broke.
"I insisted."
I swallowed.
"Massimo—"
"If I'd listened, she'd still be alive."
I sat silently.
Then said:
"You made a decision without knowing what would happen."
He shook his head.
"I was driving."
I looked at him.
"That doesn't automatically mean you caused the collision."
He stared.
"Someone hit us."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
He looked away.
"A truck."
I swallowed.
"Was it investigated?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
"What did they find?"
His expression darkened.
"Brake failure."
Silence.
May you like
Then he whispered:
"But I never believed it."
