Chapter 3

When I came back to consciousness, I found myself floating above the room. My body was still curled up in the corner of the cold storage, and a thin layer of frost was covering my skin.

I couldn't bear to look, so I turned and passed through the heavy iron doors, heading for Vesta Manor. The ballroom was alive with a party to celebrate Benedetta's recovery.

Under the crystal chandelier, Carlo wore a black velvet suit, holding a glass of whiskey. Benedetta sat beside him in an armchair, with a cashmere blanket draped over her legs. She still looked pale, but her makeup was flawless.

"The doctors said that if we'd been five minutes later, she wouldn't have made it," Matteo Conti, Benedetta's Papa and the Vesta family's Consigliere, said, raising his glass. "Carlo's quick reaction saved her."

The guests echoed the toast, raising their glasses in unison.

"Where's Margherita?" one elder asked. "She should be here."

Carlo's face grew colder. "She's reflecting."

"She's still in the cold vault? Carlo, she's been there all night. That's enough. Remember—Margherita is the Rossi family's daughter."

"I said she's reflecting," Carlo cut him off. His voice carried a warning that silenced the room for a moment.

Whispers quickly filled the air.

"I heard Ms. Rossi is jealous of the relationship between Ms. Conti and Mr. Vesta…"

"An arranged marriage is no match for a love that started in childhood…"

"Mr. Vesta's furious this time. Who knows how long he'll keep her confined…"

Benedetta gently tugged on Carlo's sleeve. "Let her out, Carlo. I know she didn't mean it. Look, I'm fine."

Carlo's gaze softened as he looked down at her.

"You're always too kind, but the family has rules," he said, patting the back of her hand gently.

I drifted closer, wanting to slap Benedetta across the face. My hand passed straight through her. She noticed nothing and simply smiled at Carlo, as if nothing had happened.

As I looked on, a sudden pain shot through my chest. That warmth had once belonged solely to me.

Just then, the butler approached and asked, "Mr. Vesta, the guard at the cold storage asked if Ms. Rossi should be given some food and water. It's been a long time."

Carlo glanced at the clock and hesitated. I noticed his fingers tapping on the table—a habit he had whenever he was deep in thought.

I silently wished he hadn't forgotten me.

"It's been a while. Very well, bring it to her," he said.

Benedetta suddenly coughed, clutching her chest. Her face went ghostly pale, and her breath came in short, shallow gasps.

"Benedetta?"

Carlo immediately steadied her.

"I'm fine," she murmured weakly. "It's just a sudden shortness of breath, probably aftereffects from the drowning."

Carlo held her firmly and told the butler, "Call the doctor."

"And Ms. Rossi…"

"We'll talk about that later," Carlo said, carrying Benedetta toward the exit. "First, she needs a doctor."

The butler wanted to say something, but in the end, he gave in. "Yes, Mr. Vesta."

As they left the room, I caught Benedetta's voice faintly behind them. "Carlo, I'm so sorry. I got sick again at a time like this. Don't worry about me. Let's get Margherita out—"

"Don't mention her," Carlo snapped. "She must be punished."

A fleeting smirk crossed Benedetta's face before she feigned concern. "I just fear she might hate me."

"She wouldn't dare," Carlo said.

I was already dead. Even if I hated her, what could it change?

Even if I were still alive, there was nothing I could have done to her with him protecting her.

At that point, I no longer felt anxious.

It didn't matter whether Carlo ever realized I was gone.

But when he discovered the truth, I wondered how he would react. I was looking forward to it.