Chapter 53 - Angela

I couldn't stop thinking that before bringing my mother into that house, I had everything: a husband who loved me and was crazy about me, power, influence, siblings, a funny friend in Melissa. But after placing her there, I lost it all. Mel was gone, and I had to send my siblings far away for safety; I discovered Marco never loved me, and my new family was crumbling.

But I couldn't blame her for any of what had happened—I was naive to believe she'd change. Just as I was stupid to go to the airport alone; after what happened to me at the club, I should have been smarter, but I was so blinded by hatred that I didn't even realize the obvious: the Mancinis weren't the only enemies.

Even my hunger had passed, and I stayed by the window watching the rain turn into a storm with thunder that shook the house and frightening lightning.

"Looks like the Trojan horse your husband created turned against him," my father's voice emerged from the shadows, and I turned to look for him.

"You don't exist anymore—you're dead!" I shouted, unable to find him. I could only be going mad.

"His trump card became his own downfall," he spoke again without me being able to pinpoint where his voice came from. "You'll destroy him!"

"Whoever's doing this, show yourself—now!" I ran from one side to the other, trying to find the door, but all I managed to grope was the cold wind around me—even the walls seemed to have vanished.

"You'll never be his again, no matter what you do," it was Filippo's voice that reached me this time. "You won't be able to get rid of me, slut!"

I felt the air leaving me, as if something heavy was on my chest, squeezing it to the point of stealing my breath. My heart was pounding erratically, as if I were having a heart attack or something like that, but nothing I did helped—my steps didn't make the darkness go away or the room return to what it was before.

"This isn't real—open your eyes, Angela!"

"Why did you let this happen to me, Angel?" It was Melissa's voice that confronted me, opening a wound in my soul.

"Mel? No, don't go!"

Thick tears streamed down my eyes, and I stumbled on the ground, feeling the cold and icy water hit my body, drowning me, pushing me to the bottom of the well where I was.

It even seemed like a force was pushing me to the ground, wanting me to stay there, still and facing my own demons, confronting my guilt in the dark.

"You should have killed him when you had the chance," my mother whispered in my ear, sending a wave of sobs along with my growing desperation. "It would have been more merciful."

"Grab her—we're going to have fun with the slut."

Hands started touching me, pulling and pinching me, and this time I used all the strength I had inside to thrash against them, trying to break free and make them stop, but I only touched the wind and nothing more.

All the voices mixed with accusations and declaring Marco's defeat thanks to me—they all shouted at once, and all I could do was scream, covering my ears while crying, wanting to wake from that nightmare and get out of there, even though a part of me said that was my new reality.

Strong hands grabbed me, pulling me, and I felt a warm body against mine. In a strange way, the voices lowered, starting to fade into the distance until all I felt was the cold contrasting with the heat emanating from my savior.

"Open your eyes!" The whisper seemed to be Marco's, and even though I felt a tender touch against my face, I didn't want to open my eyes and have to face those images in the darkness. "Angela, open your eyes. Please!"

His voice grew around me in an attractive way, seducing me back to reality, but only when I felt the hot jet of water against my body did my eyes snap open, finding the lit bathroom lights and Marco, who had me in his arms.

I looked down and saw my soaked clothes, as well as my hair and Marco's bare chest. Confusion took over my mind—I thought everything that was happening had been a dream, but why was I wet like this?

"What happened?"

"I heard your screams and ran here—I found you lying on the balcony floor, hands over your ears while crying and screaming under the rain," he told me all at once, without beating around the bush, and I gripped his shoulders before swinging my legs to the floor. "You were dreaming, Angel?"

I didn't know how to answer that question—I didn't remember going to bed or even turning off the bedroom lights; the last thing I recalled was being at the window watching the rain and thinking about everything that was happening.

"I think I forgot the window open—I went there and ended up falling," I lied; at least it was better than saying I didn't remember anything, just the screams blaming me for everything.

Marco narrowed his eyes but didn't question me again. Instead, he placed his hands on my pajama pants, helping me get rid of them, before gripping the hem of my shirt and doing the same, freeing me from the cold clothes.

His hands held my waist firmly, but I saw his gaze on the marks scattered across my body. My torso was where most of the scars from the cuts were; my back had taken the worst, at least from what I could see in the hospital mirror.

The skin around my ribs was still purple, even with all the products and medications I was using. I needed to give my body time to heal—that's what the doctors said—but seeing him staring at me with those furrowed brows while I stood naked in front of him was like another blow to my ego.

"I can shower alone," I murmured, covering my breasts and belly as best I could.

"I know you can, but I'll help anyway," Marco cleared his throat, looking away, as if I hadn't caught him staring at those horrible marks.

"No. I don't want you here!" I said more firmly, lifting my chin to show I wouldn't yield. "Get out."

He huffed, punching the wall before unleashing a torrent of curses. Slowly, his face turned to me, and he shook his head in denial, looking into my eyes for a long minute, as if expecting a different reaction.

But it wouldn't come—it was already hard enough feeling horrible and dirty; I didn't need to deal with his gaze on my body, especially after knowing he'd watched everything.

"You can't push me away forever, Angel," he murmured and let out a long sigh before stepping out of the shower, leaving me there. Marco ripped off the wet boxers before opening the cabinet and grabbing a towel, wrapping it around his waist, taking his time with each movement, as if wanting to give me time to change my mind about kicking him out. "I'm going to Mexico tomorrow—the cartel is having problems, and Mendoza thinks my presence will help resolve everything."

He hadn't told me anything about what was happening with business—in fact, we hadn't had time for that.

"It's a solo trip, apparently."

"I'll give you this time without my presence—I believe that's what you want, isn't it?" He asked, turning to look at me again. I wanted to say no, that I needed him there with me, but I stayed silent because my mind wanted one thing and my body said another. "When I return, we'll resolve everything we need to. But that doesn't involve a divorce or any kind of separation. You won't get rid of me more than this!"

Marco took a step toward me but stopped, cursing before turning and leaving the bathroom.

I collapsed, falling to the floor under the hot water, letting the tears flow freely, along with the sobs bursting from my throat.

For an instant, I'd fantasized that he'd say he loved me—how I wanted to hear those words from him. But they'd never come, and I had to get used to it, just like his desire for me wouldn't return either.