Chapter Thirteen
Alessia
Nothing ever seemed to go right in my life.
That thought echoed through my mind as I collapsed onto the bed and buried my face in the pillow.
My life was a series of disasters: I missed an interview because I got kidnapped, dated Lucas, who was full of hollow promises, and now, Marco and Salva’s failed rescue.
I groaned into the pillow, my muffled cries filling the empty dormitory.
The gunfire, screams, and Artur’s cold orders replayed in my mind.
Thinking about him made me bolt upright.
Salva gave me the pills for a reason, yet Artur seemed fine.
But why had Dorothy, and the others rushed to his wing earlier?
Digging the remaining pills out of my bra, I stared at them, my anxiety mounting. I needed to get rid of them. As the thought settled in, the door burst open. Mara and Clara walked in, both looking pale and unsettled.
“I don’t get it,” Mara muttered, pacing. “How could it be only the boss’s food? The chef and the kitchen staff prepare everything together.”
Clara nodded, frowning. “Exactly. If someone wanted to poison him, they’d have to make sure no one else touched his food. That’s … tricky.”
“Poor dog,” Mara said, shaking her head. She turned toward her bed but then stopped. Her gaze landed on me, and her eyes narrowed. Crossing her arms over her chest, she let out a sharp scoff. “I find it hard to believe what Renat said.”
“Don’t,” Clara warned.
“No, Clara,” Mara shot back, stepping toward me. “This girl should be on the list of people to investigate.”
“They checked the damn cameras,” Clara snapped, pointing at me. “Alessia is innocent. You watched the clip yourself.”
My stomach lurched. Cameras?
I swallowed hard. “What happened?” I asked.
Mara gave a humorless laugh. “To me, you’re guilty until we find the suspect. Things have been messy from the moment you showed your face in this mansion.” She walked to her bed and collapsed onto it.
Clara met my gaze. “The food you served the boss was poisoned. He realized it when the dog ate it and … stopped breathing. It’s in a critical condition.”
The world tilted. Everything else faded to static. “The dog?”
Without another word, I bolted from the dorm. My mind raced as I headed for the east wing, ignoring the workers cleaning up the attack’s aftermath.
The mansion was quieter now. When I reached Artur’s quarters, it was empty.
Panic surged through me as I checked every room, even the gym in the basement.
The dog was nowhere to be found. As I was about to give up, I heard the front door creak open.
I hid behind the nearest door, peering out as Artur stepped inside.
His movements were slow. He gripped the railing as he climbed the stairs, one hand clutching his chest. Every step seemed like a struggle. He undid the buttons of his shirt and disappeared into his room. I crept up, stopping outside his door, which he’d left ajar.
From inside, I heard a crash, followed by silence.
Peeking through the opening, I froze at the shattered remains of a lampshade on the floor.
Artur sat on the floor, leaning against the edge of his bed.
An oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth as he inhaled faster, the small tank at his side hissing softly.
His eyes remained squeezed shut, and his shirt hung open, exposing the gunshot wound on his shoulder.
For a moment, I hesitated. I should’ve left him alone, let him handle whatever was going on. But I stepped inside. I approached him slowly. His breathing was uneven, his chest heaving. His hand trembled as it slipped from the mask.
I knelt between his legs and pressed the mask back against his nose. His eyes stayed closed, and his body slumped against the bed. He looked so different, vulnerable. The cold man was gone, leaving someone who seemed to plead for help silently.
This was my second encounter with him in this state. I stayed there, holding the mask to his face as I matched my breaths to his. My heart raced, but I forced myself to focus. His breathing eventually slowed, and the tension in his body eased. When he finally opened his eyes, they locked onto mine.
For a moment, neither of us moved. Silence stretched between us, the kind that made your pulse slow and your thoughts drift.
His gray eyes held mine with a quiet intensity.
The first time I saw them, I remembered how they stopped me in my tracks.
I didn’t know better back then, and I let myself fall.
Under the tension, he stared at me like he was seeing something holy.
Like, he didn’t quite believe I was real.
For the first time, his gaze wasn’t filled with anger or cold. It was soft, almost grateful.
The warmth of his hand over mine sent shivers down my spine. He yanked off the mask and spoke, “Did I ask for your help?”
His voice was cold, contrasting with the vulnerability I’d just witnessed. “I was just doing my job,” I whispered.
He raised a brow, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a scowl.
“Stick to what you’re expected to do,” he said.
I clenched my jaw, biting back a retort.
Instead, I started to pick the shattered pieces of the lampshade.
But before I could finish, he stopped me, “Leave it. I’ll take care of it. ”
I remained on my knees, watching as he examined his wound. It wasn’t my place to ask, but seeing him lose himself for the second time raised a red flag.
“Should I call the doctor for you?”
He shot me a look. “Do I look sick to you?”
“A minute ago, you did.”
“Can you get your ass out of my sight?”
Great. What was the point? “I’m only trying to help.” I stood up. “Is there anything else you need?”
He exhaled, already tired of me. “Alessia.”
That was enough. I straightened and, without another word, I stormed out. Downstairs, I found Matvet pacing in the sitting room. A bandage covered his arm where he’d been shot earlier.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped. “Aren’t you supposed to be with the others?”
“I serve the boss,” I replied.
He grabbed my wrist, inspecting the faint bloodstain. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” I muttered, snatching my hand away. “The boss is.”
Matvet frowned. “How is he?”
“He’s taking care of his wound.” My voice was calm, but my head swirled with questions I needed answers to. “Is there something I need to know?”
Matvet’s brow furrowed. “Like what?”
My patience wore thin, and a scoff escaped me. “I know who you’re working for.” My words came out like venom, but his blank, baffled expression only fueled my irritation. “Come on, just tell me the truth.”
“What truth exactly?” His voice was calm, but his eyes were watching me more sharply than before. He was good at pretending, or maybe he didn’t know what I meant. But I knew better. I was sure he knew Salva. He had to. And he was the spy.
“You know,” I lowered my voice. “I think you’re using me. You have a connection with Marco, I know it.”
Rage flared in his eyes. “What?” He took a step closer.
“Are you accusing me of working with a Gallo?” His voice rose, filled with fire.
“And Marco, of all people?” He pointed a finger at me, his face tightening with fury.
“Listen to me. I hate that family as much as the boss does. Mention their names in front of me again, and I won’t hold back. Remember that.”
The sheer force of his words sent a chill down my spine. He wasn’t lying; if he was, he deserved an award. Confusion and fear twisted in my gut.
“But you … you know Salva,” my voice trembled.
“Of course I do,” he spat. His tone was bitter. “And they attacked us because someone inside this house is working with them.” He leaned closer. “Listen—”
“Matvet!” A sharp voice cut through the tension, making us whip around. Renat walked in, his scowl as heavy as his footsteps. “What the hell is this? A little public display of affection?”
For once, I wanted to yell back at this human being.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Matvet said quickly, his voice turning polite.
“I was leaving,” I said, giving Renat one last look before brushing past him.
According to Mara and Clara, Renat said I was innocent. And God knows what that meant, because with him, even kindness came laced with poison.
As I walked back to the girls’ quarters, uneasiness settled in my gut.
Something was wrong with Artur. He wasn’t dying in the usual sense, but there was a darkness in him, something eating away beneath the surface.
His strength would flicker, then return as if nothing had happened. It wasn’t normal.
That feeling followed me into the night, curling around my thoughts like smoke.
I barely slept in the days that followed.
Clara kept urging me to join the girls, but I always waved her off, needing to be alone.
This morning was no different. After she left, I stayed where I was, pinned under the crushing weight of my conscience.
The only way to end it was to tell Artur the truth. I had no choice.
After getting ready, I slipped the two pills into my pocket as evidence for the confession I had to make. As I left the dormitory, I almost collided with Clara. She was walking back with an urgency that caught my attention.
“They found the spy,” she said. “One of the kitchen helpers confessed. Renat didn’t hesitate to eliminate him.”
That wasn’t the truth. It couldn’t be. I brushed past Clara and hurried down the hallway, my heart pounding as I made my way to Artur.
Renat was a psychopath. He killed before, claiming he was protecting me, but I knew better.
He always needed something in return, and this felt like one of those moments.
On my way to Artur’s quarters, I ran straight into him. Speak of the devil. Renat’s eyes burned with fury.
“Follow me.”
His voice left no room for refusal. Without waiting for my reply, he strode toward his quarters. I hesitated for a moment before trailing after him.