Milo’s planted near Octavia like some guard dog. He hasn’t moved since she got here seventeen hours ago. Every time she shifts, his eyes follow. It’s pathetic, and unsettling.
Adelaide’s in the corner, arms crossed, her face set in that usual calm she hides behind. But even she can’t keep it flawless tonight, every so often, the mask slips, and I catch the worry flicker through her eyes. Isaak stands beside her, watching her closely, like he’s waiting for a crack to widen.
Piper’s here too, eyes red and swollen. Hunter’s behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder, steadying her.
And Eleanor, she’s here. Back from wherever she disappeared to. She’s just standing there, silent, staring at nothing, like her mind’s somewhere else entirely.
Which means Ido’s here too.
Cold as ever. Not a hint of emotion. Just that blank, detached stare that makes you wonder if he’s even capable of feeling anything at all. But his eyes keep drifting to Eleanor, and for the first time since I’ve known him, there’s something there I can’t name. Something almost human.
I’m sitting in the chair closest to Ophelia’s bed. Every time one of the monitors beeps, I freeze. Every pause feels like the end of my world.
Her father still hasn’t shown up.
Apparently, there’s always something more important than his daughter lying in a coma.
Of course Luigi Bellanti knows she’s here. He’ll show up eventually, but only for the sake of appearances, not for her.
In the months I was with Ophelia, I started to notice the pattern, the way his tone softened whenever he spoke of Octavia, and how he spoke of Ophelia like she was a burden instead of his own blood. For some fucked up reason, he’s always seemed to prefer the other sister.
Octavia doesn’t see it. Maybe she refuses to. Even now she keeps defending him, saying he’s caught up with some emergency, that he’s keeping in touch, that he’ll be here any minute.
I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. He should already be here, by her side, making sure she’s safe, that the doctors are doing everything they can. That she’s alive.
I don’t notice anyone leaving the room until a cup of coffee appears in front of me. Isaak’s holding it, Hunter beside him with a tray and a paper bag that probably has food in it.
I haven’t eaten since the accident. They keep bringing me coffee, but it all goes cold. I can’t make myself drink it. I don’t even think I’ve blinked in the last hour.
Time stops meaning anything. Doctors and nurses drift in and out, murmuring the same updates, stable, critical, stable again. None of it changes the fact that she’s still not awake.
Suddenly, I hear voices in the corridor. A moment later, the door swings open.
Luigi Bellanti.
The bastard can’t even enter a room quietly.
He fills the doorway, wearing an immaculate suit, polished shoes. His expression, however, is pure fury.
His gaze sweeps the room, pausing briefly when he sees Milo beside Octavia. His jaw tightens, but he lets it pass.
Unsurprisingly.
Octavia’s allowed her freedoms, she can marry whoever she desires, or at least he’ll pretend that’s the case.
But when his eyes land on me, on my hand wrapped around Ophelia’s, his entire body goes rigid.
For her, the rules are different. She’s meant for the man he chose, the one old enough to be his contemporary.
I know exactly what that look on his face means.
Milo, never able to keep quiet, lets out a low, amused sound. “This should be entertaining,” he mutters.
I don’t look away from Luigi. I hold his stare.
He takes one step into the room, stopping just short of where I sit.
“You will leave,” he says. “Immediately, this hospital, this country, or I will ensure you are forced to do so.”