CHAPTER 78

         The morning was already there and, for the third time in a row, Shawn had spent the night awake. He was still sitting in his armchair near the window with a blank stare on his face. Near the armchair was an empty bottle of whiskey, the only cure he could use to erase overwhelming thoughts and deep regrets. But even so, he couldn’t silence the severe voices, filled with accusations, he kept hearing every day. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough alcohol that could help him, that could erase the memories that continued to torture his mind, his heart, his soul, like the one of Isabelle almost dead and covered in blood.

          Ever since Isabelle had arrived at the villa, Shawn had been feeling even worse. To avoid seeing the indifference in her eyes, Shawn was coming home late every night, when everyone was already asleep. When he