CHAPTER 2 - CONSENT

I looked back down at the consent forms. They needed my signature on four different pages. I walked over to the desk, picked up a silver pen, and signed my name.

Arabella Bellini.

Each stroke of the pen sealed my fate. I was giving away a piece of myself, hoping it would buy me the love I craved. I closed the folder and turned around.

Gabriella was still sitting in the chair. Raphael was standing next to her. They presented an image of a devoted couple, and I was an intruder in my own home.

I walked over and handed the folder to Raphael. He took it without a word.

"I need to pack a bag," I told him. "How many days will I be in the hospital?"

"The recovery for the donor takes about a week," Raphael said. He checked his watch. "Marco is waiting downstairs. He will drive you to the hospital. Gabriella and I will take the second car."

I froze. "We are not riding together?"

"Gabriella needs the medical transport vehicle," he explained. "It has the necessary monitors. Marco will take good care of you."

He was sending me away with his assistant. He was riding with her. Even on the night I agreed to give up my organ, I was pushed aside.

"Raphael," I said. My voice cracked. I hated how weak I sounded. I hated how much power he held over me.

He paused and looked at me. "Yes?"

"When the surgery is over," I started. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "When I wake up in the recovery room."

"What about it?" he asked.

I looked at his dark eyes, searching for any trace of warmth. "Will you be there? Will you stay by my side when I wake up?"

Raphael held the medical folder in his left hand. He adjusted his jacket with his right hand. He looked at Gabriella, then looked back at the closed study door. He did not offer a single word of reassurance.

"Marco is waiting by the front gates, Arabella," Raphael said. "Do not keep him waiting."

He turned his back to me and leaned down to ask Gabriella if she needed a glass of water. The dismissal was final.

I stood there for another few seconds, hoping he would turn back around. He never did. I turned on my heel and walked out of the study. The hallway felt colder than usual. I walked down the grand staircase, tracing my hand along the wooden railing. This house never provided comfort. The rooms were large and empty, and I spent my days feeling isolated inside the cold walls.

I reached my bedroom and pulled a small duffel bag from the closet. I did not pack much. I threw in a few changes of comfortable clothes, my toothbrush, and my phone charger. I zipped the bag shut and carried it downstairs to the main foyer.

Marco was standing by the heavy mahogany front doors. He was Raphael's right-hand man and his closest friend. Marco wore a dark suit, much like his boss, but his demeanor was usually less rigid. Tonight, his expression was tight.

"Are you ready, Mrs. Bellini?" Marco asked. He reached out and took the duffel bag from my hands.

"Yes," I answered. I walked past him and stepped out into the cool night air. A sleek black town car was idling in the driveway. A few yards away, a larger medical transport van was parked near the side entrance, waiting for Gabriella.

Marco opened the back door of the town car for me. I slid into the leather seat. He closed the door, walked around to the driver's side, and got in. The engine hummed as he put the car in drive and pulled away from the estate.

We drove in silence for the first ten minutes. I watched the city lights blur past the tinted window. My stomach churned with anxiety, and the reality of the surgery was starting to set in.

"He should be riding with you," Marco spoke up. His voice broke the quiet atmosphere in the car.

I looked at him through the rearview mirror. His eyes were focused on the road, but his grip on the steering wheel was tight.

"Gabriella needs the medical monitors," I repeated Raphael's excuse. I sounded pathetic trying to defend a husband who did not care about me.

"Gabriella had a headache," Marco muttered. He shook his head. "She does not need a medical transport. She just wants to make sure he is looking at her instead of you."

I stared at the back of Marco's head. He rarely spoke out of turn, and he never criticized Raphael's decisions out loud. The fact that he was pointing this out made the humiliation sting even more.

"It does not matter," I told him. "I agreed to do this. Once it is over, she will be healthy, and Raphael will have peace."

Marco stopped the car at a red light. He turned in his seat and looked back at me. His face was shadowed, but his eyes held a warning.

"You think this is going to fix your marriage, Arabella?" Marco asked softly. "You think giving him your kidney is going to make him love you?"

"He saved my life," I whispered. My throat tightened. "I owe him this."

Marco turned back around as the light turned green. He pressed the gas pedal, and the car accelerated toward the hospital.

"You do not owe him anything," Marco said. "And if you knew the truth about why he married you, you would tell me to turn this car around right now."