Chapter Four

After a long drive, the SUV finally slowed and pulled into a large driveway. The gates had opened automatically at their arrival, revealing the mansion inside.

The house was huge. It stood tall behind a wide stretch of pavement, with sharp lines and pale grey walls. Large glass windows took up most of the front, and black security cameras turned slowly at the corners. There were men in suits standing at the edges of the building, each one still and alert, wearing earpieces. Every detail screamed wealth and power.

One of the guards opened the door, and Elisa stepped out with her mother.

Inside, the floors were white marble. The entrance hall was massive, with high ceilings and a giant chandelier hanging above. Expensive-looking furniture sat untouched in corners. Not a pillow out of place. No sign that anyone actually lived here.

“Welcome home, Elisa,” her mother said lightly.

Home. Elisa looked around. Everything was spotless and empty. Not a photo. Not a pair of shoes out of place. How could this be a home to anyone?

“Did I live here before the accident?” she asked quietly.

Her mother nodded. “Yes. You liked being close to your father and me.”

Elisa didn’t reply. They clearly didn’t like being close to her.

As they walked further into the house, Elisa took note of the thick rugs, glass tables, and tall mirrors lining the hallways. There were large paintings on the walls. Not of any of the occupants though. The silence made it feel more like a hotel than a home.

They were halfway into the hallway when Elisa heard footsteps coming down the stairs. She turned and saw an older woman, maybe a little older than her mother, dressed in a pale blue uniform.

“That’s Mrs. Cooper,” her mother said, breaking into her thoughts. “She’ll be your personal nurse and maid for now. If you need anything, talk to her. She can show you around the house. I would have loved to do that myself but I have a few things to take care of.”

Her mother stepped closer and placed a kiss on Elisa’s cheek. Then her hand came up and gently touched Elisa’s hair. Her fingers paused and twirled a strand slowly, her gaze fixed on it. Her face shifted slightly, something sad passing through her eyes.

Elisa noticed. She had caught her mother staring at her hair before. She didn't know why she was obsessed with her hair.

Her mother let go of the strand suddenly and stepped back. Without another word, she turned and walked out the door. Elisa watched her leave, confused by the way her mother could be gentle one moment and cold the next.

“Come with me,” Mrs. Cooper said, snapping her out of her thoughts. “We’ve got a few things to go through. I’ll start by showing you around.”

The house tour wasn’t what Elisa had expected. Mrs. Cooper didn’t really show her much. She simply walked down the halls, pointing at closed doors and saying, “That’s the study,” or “This is the media room,” without bothering to open anything. Elisa didn’t ask questions. She didn’t care about the rooms.

Finally, they reached a wide door on the second floor.

“This is your room,” Mrs. Cooper said, opening it.

The room was big—almost too big. The walls were a soft cream color, and long white curtains covered tall windows. A huge bed sat in the middle with white and beige bedding perfectly arranged. Everything was clean and neat. But Elisa’s eyes went straight to the luggage cases sitting on the floor near the bed.

Her stomach dropped. The thought of why they were packed worsened her mood.

“They’ll be moved to the Bellucci mansion tomorrow,” Mrs. Cooper said simply, noticing where Elisa was looking. “Don’t worry about it.”

Elisa said nothing.

“You can freshen up if you like. There are still clothes in the closet. I’ll ask the kitchen to prepare something for you to eat. I’ll come back in an hour to take you to the dining room.”

With that, she left.

Elisa stood there, alone now. The silence was heavier than before. She decided to take a bath.

The bathroom was just as big as the bedroom, with shiny white tiles, spotless counters, and soft golden lighting. The bathtub was wide and built into the floor, with polished steel taps. There were towels stacked neatly in a wooden rack and bottles of soap arranged in size on the shelf.

Elisa ran warm water and added some liquid soap. She slipped into the tub slowly, sighing as the water covered her skin. Her muscles relaxed. She stayed there a while, her head resting back, eyes closed.

After soaking for a bit, she stepped out and dried off. She wore an robe that was on a rack.

She was about to leave the bathroom when something in the mirror caught her attention. She paused and turned toward it, walking closer. She stared at her reflection. A pale face. Soft, oval-shaped. Blue eyes stared back at her—like her mother’s.

Her gaze dropped to her hair.

It was blonde. A warm strawberry blonde. Looking at it too long made her head start to ache. A sharp pain touched the edge of her memory, but nothing clear came to her. She leaned against the sink, breathing through the strange pressure in her head until it faded.

When she felt better, she headed to the closet.

It was full of clothes—dresses in pale pinks, soft blues, and creams. All long, elegant, and formal. Like something her mother would wear. Elisa frowned. This couldn’t be her style.

She searched through the racks, digging past the rows of expensive dresses, until she finally found a section tucked at the back—shorts, tank tops, jeans. She pulled out a pair of jean shorts and a simple strappy top.

She put them on and slipped into a pair of sandals.

Near the mirror in her room, she saw rows of perfumes arranged neatly. She picked one up and sprayed it gently on her wrist—but it was too strong. She tried another. Still too much. One after another, they all smelled overpowering. Nothing felt right. She wondered how she liked them before. They made her stomach churn.

She was still in the closet when she heard Mrs. Cooper call out her name.

Elisa sighed, stepping back into the bedroom.

Mrs. Cooper entered, ready to speak, but her eyes stopped at Elisa’s clothes. A deep frown formed on her face.

“What are you wearing?” she asked, clearly disapproving.

Elisa looked down at her jean shorts and strappy top. “Clothes,” she said casually, though she already knew this was going to turn into something.

“Those are not suitable for a woman who is about to get married,” Mrs. Cooper said sharply, walking further into the room. Her eyes scanned Elisa’s legs like they were something dirty. “Where did you even get them?”

“From the closet.”

Mrs. Cooper’s eyebrows shot up. “There are other clothes for you in the closet. Proper ones.”

“I didn’t like them,” Elisa replied, standing her ground. “They’re too much for this weather.”

Mrs. Cooper’s hands settled on her hips. “Weather or not, you’re expected to dress like a respectable young lady. You should always cover up. Clothes like that—” her eyes flicked over the top Elisa wore, “—are for harlots.”

Elisa’s mouth fell open slightly. “Are you calling me a harlot?”

“I’m saying those clothes are not for someone like you.”

“This is ridiculous,” Elisa said, the anger starting to rise in her chest. “You can’t tell me what to wear.”

“I can,” Mrs. Cooper said, her voice firm, “and I will.”

Elisa’s arms folded. “Then why do I have those clothes at all? Why were they in the closet?”

Mrs. Cooper’s lips tightened, clearly not expecting that question. “Those were clothes suitable for Miss Elisa Mancini. But in three days, you’ll be Mrs. Elisa Bellucci. You’re expected to dress like the wife of a respectable businessman.”

“I’m not getting married.”

Mrs. Cooper’s eyes flashed. “There’s nothing to argue about. Before the accident, you understood the need for a change in your style. That’s why you bought those dresses. This…”—she waved a hand at Elisa—“…this behavior is selfish and childish. I know it’s because of the memory loss, but that doesn’t mean it will be tolerated.”

Elisa stared at her, jaw clenched at the word tolerated. Like she was just a problem to be managed.

“You need to follow instructions to ease back into your life,” Mrs. Cooper continued, lowering her voice slightly like she was trying to sound kind. “Right now, I know you more than you know yourself. I’m just trying to help you.”

Elisa shook her head. “You’re not helping.”

Mrs. Cooper straightened. “I’ll get you another dress. You’ll change, and then we’ll head to the dining room. Understood?”

Elisa didn’t reply.

Mrs. Cooper’s tone hardened. “If you refuse, then forget about lunch.”

Elisa stared at her in disbelief. “So you’ll starve me into submission?”

Mrs. Cooper shrugged slightly. “If I must… yes.”

For a second, Elisa didn’t move. Her fists were clenched by her side. She wanted to scream, to throw something, to tell this woman off. But the expression on Mrs. Cooper’s face told her that nothing she said would change anything.

She turned silently and walked back into the closet.