Page 34 of She Found Me

“You’re lying. Your men drove into Mia at speed and killed her. I’ve seen the CCTV!” Van shouts at them both.

“Enough!” Al Martelé demands. “I don’t want to waste any more time here. You will both die now. You may have thought I’d draw your death out as long as I can, but you are already a pathetic broken man, Marco Guerra.” Martelé then addresses the room. “Here, today, you will witness the death of the last Guerra. After this moment I do not want that name to ever be said again. The Guerra name dies with him.”

I don’t mind dying to save another person or for the future of my organisation. But to die like this, full of guilt and regret, is the worst death anyone could have. I drop my head in shame and wait.

Chapter 19

Mia

Thankfully I feel much better when I wake up. The first thing I see when I open my eyes is Donna’s concerned face.

She smiles sweetly at me. “Arianna, you gave us quite a scare.”

“I gave myself a scare,” I admit, pushing my elbows into the bed and lifting myself into a more upright position. Donna helps by raising my bed. “What was that? Was it something to do with the accident or my brain?” I suddenly try and think of past memories before the accident, but no, it hasn’t brought anything back.

“You had a severe allergic reaction and went into anaphylactic shock,” Donna explains as she wraps a blood pressure cuff around my arm.

“What am I allergic to?”

“We are waiting for your test results to come back, but we are almost certain that you are severely allergic to peanuts.”

“Wow. So is that something that has happened because of the accident?” I ask.

“It’s very unlikely. Allergies, especially nut allergies, start in infanthood. I would assume this has been something you have had all your life, especially with how severe your reaction was. Your blood pressure is fine now.” Donna removes the cuff from my arm.

“I don’t understand. Eric said it was my favourite chocolate bar.” This doesn’t make any sense. “Argh! I’m so frustrated, Donna. I wish I could remember who I am.”

Eric insists I wasn’t allergic to nuts before my accident. The doctors have said it’s very unusual, but not impossible. I don’t believe him, though. I think he may be trying to kill me or the baby. Why, I’m not sure, but I will have to be careful once we are living together.

Over the next week, I work hard with the physios until I can walk well with crutches and get up and down stairs independently. I’m seventeen weeks pregnant now, and everything looks perfect with the baby. Once I have said goodbye to all the staff at the hospital and thanked them all for everything they done, Eric drives us to our home.

Along the way, we discuss living arrangements.

“I’ve made the bed up for you already. I’ve got you some new bedding. I hope you like it. I thought I would sleep in the spare room for now until you are fully recovered, but once the baby is born, I’ll move in there with you, and the baby can have their own room.”

“There’s only two in the whole house? Only two bedrooms?” I demand in horror.

Eric laughs. “Yes, how many do you want?”

I will not be sharing a bed with this man. When I’m around him, I feel homesick.

After a journey of about twenty minutes, we pull down a narrow road only wide enough for one car. The road is bumpy, and the trees either side are so overgrown, their leaves scratch the car as we pass.

“Do we live down here?” I ask, staring out of the window.

“Yes, just a little further. There it is. All on its own. A lovely quiet spot with no neighbours to disturb us.”

The house fills me with dread. I hadn’t known what to expect, but I anticipated more than this tired little house. It’s an old red brick house. The windows have wooden frames that are in desperate need of replacing. The roof sinks in on one side, and the front door looks multicoloured due to the many different coats of paint it’s had over the years, which are now peeling off.

“It’s a work-in-progress. We can do the house up together, make it our own. It’s got lots of potential,” Eric says proudly as he parks up next to the house.

I carefully get out of the car and walk up the overgrown path. It could be quite beautiful, actually. The gardens are surrounded by trees full of leaves blowing gently in the wind. My eyes are drawn to one tree in particular, a smaller tree at the side of the house. Being careful not to trip or get my crutches caught on the long grass, I make my way over to it. It’s an apple tree. My arm naturally reaches up, and I pluck an apple from a low branch. I instantly bring it to my nose and breathe it in. The smell immediately brings a flash of a memory back. I’m doing the same thing—reaching for an apple, plucking it from a tree, and bringing it to my nose.

“Hey, Arianna, are you okay?” Eric comes jogging over, disturbing me from my moment.

“Yes, I’m fine. This is an apple tree.”

“Oh yes, so it is. That will save us a bob or two on fruit, then.” Eric laughs.

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