Chapter 44

Amelia's POV.

The ride to the hospital felt longer than it should have been. Marcus drove in silence, his eyes occasionally flicking to the rearview mirror like he was checking for threats that didn't exist.

I pressed my fingers against the window, watching the city blur past. My chest felt tight with anticipation. I hadn't seen my mother in days, and the last time I did, she looked so frail, so close to slipping away.

What if she looked worse?

What if the Don's promises were empty?

My stomach twisted at the thought, but I forced myself to breathe. He said she was responding to treatment. I had to believe that.

When we finally arrived at the hospital, Marcus walked me to the entrance, his presence drawing stares from everyone around. I didn't care. All I wanted was to see my mother.

The receptionist looked up as I approached, and before I could say anything, she smiled.

"Miss Earhart, your mother is in room 304. Third floor," she said warmly.

I blinked, surprised she already knew my name. I hadn't been to this hospital before. But I nodded and headed for the elevator, my heart pounding harder with each step.

When I reached the room, I hesitated at the door. My hand hovered over the handle, and I swallowed hard before pushing it open.

The sight that greeted me made my breath catch.

My mother looked better than she had in months. There was color in her face, a softness to her features that hadn't been there before. The machines around her bed were fewer, quieter. She looked like she was resting, not fighting for every breath.

Relief washed over me so hard that my knees wobbled. I moved to her side, sinking into the chair beside her bed. My fingers found hers, and I held her hand gently, like she might break if I squeezed too hard.

"Mom," I whispered, my voice cracking.

She didn't respond, but her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. That was enough.

For the first time since everything started, I felt like I could breathe. The weight on my chest eased, and I leaned back in the chair, closing my eyes.

The nurse who came in to check on her greeted me by name before I even introduced myself. She adjusted my mother's IV, smiling at me like we were old friends.

"She's doing much better," the nurse said softly. "The new treatment is working wonders."

I nodded, unable to find words. My throat felt too tight.

When I finally left the room, I felt lighter. The anxiety that had been clawing at my insides for days had dulled into something manageable.

But as Marcus drove me back to the penthouse, my mind wouldn't settle.

The clothes in the wardrobe that fit me perfectly. The skincare products I'd never mentioned to anyone. The tea already waiting like someone had timed it.

How did Don Mateo know all of that?

The question gnawed at me, growing louder with each passing minute. By the time the car pulled up to the penthouse, I had made up my mind.

I needed answers.

The moment I stepped inside, I found him. He was in the corridor, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure against the sleek walls. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his expression calm, unreadable.

I didn't waste time.

"How did you know?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

Don Mateo turned to face me, his green eyes settling on mine. He didn't flinch, didn't look caught off guard.

"Know what, Margherita?"

"My clothing size. My skincare routine. The tea I drink," I said, crossing my arms. "How did you know all of that before I ever stepped foot in your home?"

He studied me for a moment, his expression still calm. Then he took a step closer, closing the distance between us.

"I made it my business to know the things that mattered to me," he said simply.

My heart stuttered at his words, but I didn't let it show.

"How long?" I asked, my voice quieter now. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Long enough."

The answer should have unsettled me. It should have sent alarms ringing in my head. But as I searched his face, I didn't find anything threatening. Instead, I saw something that looked like care, and that unsettled me more than a threat would have.

I opened my mouth to say something, but footsteps interrupted me.

Vale appeared at the end of the corridor, her expression tight. She didn't look at me with her usual disdain. Instead, she looked tense, like something was wrong.

"Raymond is outside the building," she said, her voice clipped.

My stomach dropped.

"What?" I breathed.

"He's not knocking. He's not calling. He's outside, causing a scene," Vale continued, her eyes flicking to Don Mateo.

I moved before I could stop myself, heading for the window. My hands pressed against the glass as I looked down.

Raymond was at the entrance, his face twisted with rage. He was shouting, his voice carrying even through the thick glass. And beside him on the ground was Lucy, his hand twisted in her hair as he screamed at her.

"You ruined everything!" His voice cracked with fury. "Everything I planned!"

Lucy's face was streaked with tears, her hands clawing at his grip. But he didn't let go.

I watched, my chest tight, and felt nothing for him, not even pity.

This was the man I thought I loved. The man I thought I'd marry. And now he was nothing but a stranger throwing a tantrum because he didn't get his way.

Marcus appeared at my side, his presence grounding me.

"The Don has already been informed," he said calmly.

I nodded, stepping back from the window. My hands were trembling, but not from fear. It was from anger and disgust. 

Raymond wanted something. He always wanted something. But whatever it was, he wasn't getting it today.