Chapter 4

"Don't worry, Mr. Valenti. With some rest, your wife will recover."

When I woke up, I felt weak and completely drained.

Arthur was sitting by the bed. He held a glass of warm water to my lips. "Cecilia, how do you feel? Does anything hurt?"

I turned my head away from his touch and laughed coldly.

"Arthur, aren't you disgusted with yourself?"

He set the glass down and was about to say something when one of his men hurried in.

"Don, Ms. Hayes is in bad shape. She keeps calling your name."

Arthur stood up and looked at me, a hint of apology in his voice. "I'm going to check on her. I'll be right back."

I closed my eyes and ignored him.

The whole night passed, and he never came back.

I started running a high fever. I drifted in and out, seeing things, and all my dreams were of my father.

In my dreams, my father stood in front of me covered in blood, calling my name over and over and asking me why I hadn't saved him.

I couldn't wait any longer.

Early the next morning, Arthur pushed the door open.

I'd just woken up from a nightmare, drenched in cold sweat, my chest heaving.

The moment I saw Arthur, I struggled to sit up, my voice hoarse and frantic. "Arthur, my father is dead! I need to get out and claim his ashes!"

He stopped short, his face going rigid. "What did you say?"

Lilith spoke from the doorway. "Cecilia, you can't just say things like that. People might actually think something happened to the old Don. I had someone check with the prison just the other day, and he's perfectly fine. Don't say such awful things about your own father."

"If you're going to lie to Arthur, at least come up with a better excuse."

"The FBI is investigating the Valenti family for organized crime right now. Everyone's watching. Do you really want to stir up a scandal like this and embarrass Arthur?"

Arthur's expression turned cold. "Cecilia, you'd lie about your own father's death just to get out of here?!"

He ordered coldly, "Lock the door! Don't let her out without my permission!"

I panicked, threw off the covers, and tried to get out of bed. "Arthur! I'm not lying! Everything I said is true! Why won't you believe me?"

The door slammed shut, and then came the sound of the lock.

I was completely locked inside the room.

I collapsed onto the bed and stared hopelessly at the closed door. I didn't even have the strength to cry.

My body kept getting weaker, and soon I was burning up with fever again.

In a haze, I felt someone gently wiping my body with a towel. Big, dry hands held me up, changed me into comfortable pajamas, and slowly combed my hair.

The person held me close, patted my back, and sang me a lullaby.

He whispered, "Cecilia, I'm going to send her away soon. Then everything can go back to the way it was. We can visit those lavender fields you love, and I'll paint your portrait. Okay?"

It's too late.

There's no going back.

Late on the third night, a sudden burst of fire flared outside the window.

Arthur woke with a start and bolted upright. "What's that smell?!"

A bodyguard rushed in, white as a sheet, his voice shaking. "Don! It's bad! Donna's... Donna's attic is on fire!"

Arthur didn't even stop to put on shoes. He ran out barefoot.

The flames shot into the sky, turning half the night sky red.

The firelight flickered across his face, making him look deathly pale.

Just then, Marco, the underboss he'd sent to the prison for news, got back. Out of breath, he sank to his knees at the door. "Don! I... I checked. The old Don... he really did die of a sudden heart attack in prison a week ago!"