4

ELENA

Why did she give me the art piece? What did Valeria Moretti want from me?

These questions followed me everywhere I went like a shadow. It sat in the back of my mind during the drive home. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

My boss’s words echoed in my head. Take the rest of the day off.

I decided to listen.

I needed time to think. To breathe. But I still couldn’t. I still thought of Valeria even as I alighted at the parking lot, during the quiet elevator ride up to my apartment, even as I kicked off my shoes and dropped my bag at the door.

I had no answer to the questions in my head. Only unease.

I paced around the living room, my arms wrapped around me. I was grateful for her help but it felt suspicious. Truth be told, if Valeria hadn’t stepped in, I would have walked into my boss’s office with nothing but excuses. I imagined the disappointment on his face, the words he would have carefully used to soften the blow.

“You did your best, Elena.” But best wasn’t enough when you failed.

She had saved me today. That alone made me grateful, but it frightened me.

A woman like Valeria didn’t look like someone who would do things without reason.

My phone buzzed in my hand as I checked it again. No new messages, no missed calls.

Marcus was still silent.

Worry began to grow. He hadn’t come home last night, he hadn’t answered my calls and now nothing.

I dialled his number again. But it went straight to voicemail.

“Marcus,” I muttered, ending the call. “Where are you?”

I needed to hear Marcus’s voice, tell him about Valeria and convince myself that everything was fine.

But when I got home, everything looked exactly as I’d left it that morning. No shoes by the door, no jacket tossed over a chair, there was no sign that Marcus had been there at all.

A knot formed in my chest.

I called him again and again, yet nothing.

Eventually, exhaustion got hold of me. The kind that pressed down on my shoulders and blurred my thoughts. I flung myself onto the couch, my phone clutched in my hand, staring at the ceiling.

My thoughts spiralled. Marcus’s absence, the way Valeria looked at me with those eyes, the art piece, the upcoming exhibition, and the unspoken tension that crawled my skin.

I didn’t remember when I fell asleep/

The ringing from my phone woke me up.

I gasped, sitting up very fast, my heart racing. The room was already dark. For a moment I didn’t know where I was.

Then the phone rang again.

I grabbed it, blinking at the screen.

It was Marcus.

My breath hitched.

I immediately swiped to answer. “Marcus? Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

There was silence at the other end of the phone. Then, I heard his voice, familiar, warm, apologetic.

“Hey, honey. I’m sorry. I went out of town for business. It’s been hectic.”

Relief rushed through me, so fast that it made me dizzy. “You scared me,” I said, sinking back into the couch. “You could’ve told me.”

“I know,” he said gently. “I messed up.”

I sighed. “You really did.”

He chuckled. “I know how to make it up to you.”

“Oh?” I smiled. “You do?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said. “Just to make up for my naughty behaviour.”

A laugh slipped out of me. “A surprise?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Get dressed. I’ll text you the address. Wear something nice.”

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, already excited.

“It’s a surprise,” he repeated.

I smiled as the call ended. Marcus always knew how to spoil me. How to smooth over his disappearance with charm and affection. I told myself that was just how he was.

I hurried to the bathroom, energy buzzing through me. I took my time in the shower, then chose a dress I knew he would love. I fixed my hair just right, but by then the text already came in.

I glanced at the address he had sent.

It looked fancy.

Smiling, I grabbed my keys and left.

My imagination ran wild as I drove to the location. A private dinner? A celebration? Or maybe he wanted to make up for being gone by doing something special.

I saw the restaurant ahead, and it was elegant and glowing against the night. Valet parking, soft lights, just perfect. The kind of place saved for anniversaries.

I stepped inside and approached the counter. “I have a reservation,” I said, giving Marcus’s name.

The hostess nodded, then gestured to a man in a black suit standing nearby. “He’ll take you.”

The man didn’t speak. He just inclined his head and led me away from the main dining area.

We passed tables filled with people, laughter and music fading as we moved further back. Down a corridor through a door.

I hesitated. “Is this the right way?” I asked.

He didn’t respond, he just kept walking.

I told myself Marcus loved dramatic gestures. Maybe this was some kind of private room. A VIP kinda thing.

The door opened. Inside, the room was dimly lit, very intimate. A long table stood at the centre. Candles flickered softly.

Marcus sat at the far end.

I smiled when I saw him, warmth blooming in my chest. “You didn’t tell me it would be this fancy.”

I walked toward him. That’s when I saw his face more clearly.

The bruise near his cheekbone, the cut at the corner of his mouth.

My heart dropped.

“Oh my God,” I said, rushing closer. “Marcus, what happened to your face?”

He smiled softly.. “It’s nothing. I had a little altercation.”

“A little altercation?” I frowned. “You look hurt.”

“It’s all good now,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”

I reached for his hand, concern outweighing everything else. “You should’ve told me.”

Before he could answer, a voice cut through the room.

‘Cute lovebirds, aren’t they?”

My blood ran cold.

The lights brightened all of a sudden. I turned slowly.

Valeria Moretti sat at another table, legs crossed, posture relaxed as always, her eyes fixed on us. Three other men in black suits stood slightly at the corners of the room.

My heart pounded against my chest.

“Elena,” Valeria said calmly. “Good to see you again. You look ravishing as ever.”

“What…” I swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”

Then I turned to Marcus. “Marcus, what’s going on?”

Valeria tilted her head, studying me. “I told you earlier that it wasn’t the end of our conversation.”

She stood.

The air felt thicker all of a sudden as she walked toward us, her heels clicking softly against the floor.

“I wasn’t joking when I said that.”