CHAPTER 20
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ARIANA'S POV
Here’s your scene — completely polished and enhanced for emotional realism, pacing, and immersive prose, while keeping every single line, event, and emotional beat you wrote.
Nothing’s censored or omitted — it’s simply refined so it reads with the depth and intensity of a published dark romance chapter.
My heart thudded violently in my chest as I sat on the bed, alone in the room, panic clawing at my throat.
This was by far the worst attack I’d had in years — maybe ever — and I couldn’t stop it.
I couldn’t breathe.
My chest constricted painfully as I clutched the duvets, trying to ground myself, trying to focus on something, anything, but my body refused to cooperate.
The pit of my stomach burned, the air felt too thick to swallow, and the entire room had turned into a sauna.
I was trembling uncontrollably, gasping, my vision spinning — when the door suddenly burst open.
“Ariana!”
Matt’s voice snapped through the noise in my head. He rushed to my side, his eyes wide with worry. I reached for him without thinking, my shaking hands clutching his.
“Calm down,” he said urgently, kneeling in front of me. “Ariana, stay calm. Focus on your breathing. In and out — like this.”
“M-M-Matt... I d-don’t want t-to stay h-here,” I sobbed, words barely escaping between broken breaths. “T-take me b-back h-home.”
Matt moved closer, pulling me gently against him, his arm wrapping around my shoulders. He stroked my hair, his own breathing steady and slow so I could match it.
My body tensed at first, unsure what to do with the warmth pressed against me.
But the longer he held me, the more that tension melted away.
His thumb brushed against the side of my neck, barely there, just enough to make my breath catch.
The simple touch sent a shiver through me, one I tried to hide but couldn’t.
I lifted my head without thinking, and he was right there — close enough that I could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the way his lips parted when he looked at mine. For a second, neither of us moved. The air between us felt like it could burn if either of us dared to break it.
His hand slid up, fingers tracing the line of my jaw, slow and careful, giving me every chance to pull away. I didn’t. I couldn’t.
“Breathe with me,” he murmured. “Just breathe.”
It took minutes — long, painful minutes — for my body to respond, for my lungs to finally expand without choking on air. My heart still raced, my limbs trembling, but slowly the panic began to ebb away.
I leaned against Matt’s chest, exhausted, my face puffy and wet, my throat raw. His fingers ran through my hair rhythmically, soothing, though my body still felt electric with fear.
“Ariana,” he said softly after a moment. “You need to sleep. I’ll bring you something to eat later.”
“No.” My voice cracked as I clutched at his shirt. “Matt, don’t leave me.”
He hesitated, his jaw tightening as if it hurt him to move. Then he nodded once and stayed until my breathing finally evened out. I don’t remember closing my eyes — just the feeling of his presence as the weight of exhaustion dragged me under.
When I woke, it felt like weeks had passed.
My head throbbed with a sharp, pulsing ache, and a cold sweat slicked my skin. I blinked a few times, disoriented, and that’s when I saw him.
Bruno.
He stood at the foot of the bed, hands buried in his pockets, watching me in silence.
My heart jumped to my throat. A shiver raced through me as I tried to sit up, but my limbs were weak, my head too heavy. Bruno’s brows furrowed as he stepped closer.
“I hear you’re unwell,” he said simply. He pulled a thermometer from his pocket and crouched beside me. When the cold metal touched my skin, I flinched at both the contact and his proximity.
“Damn,” he muttered, scanning the reading. “You’re burning.”
I swallowed hard, my lips trembling. Had Mom been here, she’d have known exactly what to do. She always did. But Mom wasn’t here — and that realization made the room tilt all over again.
Bruno watched me for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then he said, almost too casually, “This is karma, Bella.”
I blinked, confused. “What?”
He held the serious expression for a few seconds before it cracked, and he suddenly burst into laughter. I stared at him, speechless, as he clutched his stomach.
“For stamping on my poor feet,” he teased between laughs, “and then deciding to run away.”
I just blinked at him, still too dazed to respond.
Before I could say anything, his expression softened again. “Relax, Bella. I’m kidding,” he said, chuckling as he glanced down at his feet. “Trust me — they’re perfectly fine.”
“O-okay,” I mumbled, too drained to do more than look away.
The truth was, I felt terrible. My entire body ached, my head was pounding, and his energy — as kind as it was — was too much to handle. Ever since I’d arrived, all I could think about was leaving. But no matter how much I thought, I couldn’t figure out how.
Matt was useless — he was one of them.
And Alessandro... didn’t want to know me.
“Since you’re unwell, we have to do something about it,” Bruno said suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts. His tone shifted, firm but not unkind. “You’ll have to come with me to the estate. Our family doctor will take a look at you.”
My stomach dropped. “No...” I shook my head, panic rising again. “Please. I just want to go home.”
Bruno frowned but knelt beside me, his expression gentling. Out of all of them, he was the only one who didn’t scare me — the only one who sometimes seemed to care. Maybe, just maybe, I could convince him.
“If I didn’t know who you were,” he said quietly, “I would’ve let you go. But that’s not the case.”
I stared at him, my throat tight, hope fading fast.
“One thing I can promise you, Bella, is that you’re safe here,” he added.
“Please,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes again. “I can’t stay here. You know I can’t.”
He sighed deeply, eyes softening with pity. “Ariana... you have to trust us. Trust me.”
That was it. The moment he said it, something inside me broke. My last ounce of hope just... vanished. I dropped my gaze as silent tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Come on,” he said gently, standing up and holding out his hand. “Let’s get you to the doctor.”
I hesitated, then took his hand — because what choice did I have? The moment I stood, the world spun violently. Bruno caught me, steadying me, then guided my arm around his so I could lean on him as we walked.
The short journey to the estate felt endless. My tears wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard I tried to hold them back. I knew Bruno didn’t like this either — having to drag me there. But I also knew Alessandro had ordered it.
By the time we reached the mansion, my body was trembling, my skin pale and clammy. My heart pounded as I stepped inside for the first time since that day.
The sight stole what little breath I had left.
Marble floors gleamed beneath soft golden lights. The walls were lined with dark wood and intricate carvings, elegant and cold. Every corner screamed wealth, power, control.
And pain.
Because I remembered this — the dream Alessandro and I once shared. He used to talk about the house we’d build together. The life we’d have.
And now... he’d done it.
Just without me.
“God...” I whispered, barely audible, as my tears fell harder.
We walked further into the mansion until we reached one of the rooms downstairs. By that point, my legs felt like they weren’t even touching the ground — just floating beneath me — so the moment I saw a seat, I took it. My grip on Bruno’s arm tightened as my balance faltered again.
“Ciao, Dr. Araldo. I have a patient here for you,” Bruno greeted, his voice echoing softly in the spacious room. Then he turned toward me. “Ariana, this is Dr. Araldo. Dr. Araldo, this is Ariana.”
“Ciao,” the doctor said kindly, offering me a warm smile.
I tried to return it, but it came out weak. My head was spinning, and my throat felt like sandpaper.
“è meglio che la abbassi, sembra che stia per cadere,” he said to Bruno, who immediately steadied me with both hands.
“Come here, tesoro,” Dr. Araldo murmured as he helped guide me toward the hospital bed in the center of the room. “You definitely need treatment.”
He looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties, with kind eyes and a patient face.
His white coat hung neatly on his tall frame, a few pens visible in his chest pocket.
A stethoscope rested around his neck, his hair was entirely silver, and a clean beard framed his face.
The small glasses perched on his nose caught the light every time he moved.
As soon as he positioned me on the bed, my body gave in completely. The soft pillow cradled my head, and my eyes fluttered shut. Within seconds, everything went dark.
A stinging sensation rippled through my body when I came to again.
The surface beneath me was so soft, so comfortable, that part of me wanted to slip right back into sleep.
I stirred slightly, shifting for a better position before finally opening my eyes — only to find three familiar faces watching me.
One was soft.
One was stern.
And one... was cold.
I blinked a few times to clear my vision, confusion clouding my thoughts. I was back in the little house where I’d first been placed. How did I get here? I was certain I’d been in Dr. Araldo’s room before passing out.
Bruno stood closest to me, Salvatore lingered just a few feet behind him, and farthest back — near the door — stood Alessandro.
He was glaring.
That same glare I remembered too well — sharp, unreadable, and far too heavy to hold.
I was stunned. In nearly a week of being here, Alessandro hadn’t come to see me once. And now, here he was.
With Bruno’s help, I sat up slowly, my tired eyes fixed on Alessandro the whole time. He didn’t move closer. He just watched.
“We nearly lost you, bella,” Bruno chuckled softly, placing a few pillows behind my back. “How are you feeling?”
I nodded weakly, though my attention never left Alessandro. His stare met mine, unflinching, almost daring me to look away. It felt like we were locked in some silent challenge — except I wasn’t trying to challenge him. I was just trying to understand him.
“Good,” Bruno said finally. “You have to eat something. But first... we need to speak to you.”
My body tensed instantly. Conversations that started like that never ended well.
Salvatore stepped forward slightly, his face grave. “Don’t worry,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “We’re not here to hurt you.”
At that, Alessandro looked away — the first movement he’d made since I woke.
“We just want to know what happened.”
The words made my skin prickle.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice small, already knowing I wouldn’t like the answer.
Salvatore’s expression didn’t change. “D’Angelo.”
The name hit me like ice water. My breath hitched, and I turned my face away as a tremor ran through my body.
“He’s dead,” I whispered, my hands twisting together in my lap.
“We know, fiore,” Salvatore said quietly. “But we want to know how it happened.”
My throat constricted. My heart pounded. Sweat rolled down my temple. Every nerve screamed at me to lie, to make something up — anything that would make them stop asking.
And then Alessandro moved.
He leaned toward Salvatore, muttered something low enough that I couldn’t hear, and both Salvatore and Bruno turned toward the door. Bruno gave a reluctant nod before they left the room.
Leaving me alone with him.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
I could hear my own breathing — shallow, uneven — as Alessandro’s footsteps came closer. I didn’t dare look up, but from the corner of my eye I saw him — hands buried in his pockets, chest rising and falling with measured restraint.
“What happened?”
His growl cut through the quiet like a blade, and I flinched at the sound. The urge to speak tangled in my throat. I knew what he wanted to hear, but I couldn’t say it — couldn’t tell him that my father had been killed by my mother.
Would he even believe me?
“You know, donna,” he said, his tone low and rough, “I could pull every record, every move your father’s made over the past decade, right in front of you — if you don’t start talking right now.”
I froze. The realization hit like a brick — Alessandro had been keeping tabs on me. On my father. On everything.
My pulse raced as I lifted my eyes to him. “Do it,” I whispered.
He was already close — close enough for me to see the faint scars that marked his perfect face, the ones time hadn’t erased. His deep blue eyes, once warm and teasing, now looked like cold steel. Those were the same eyes that used to see only me — that once carried love.
Now they looked through me like I was nothing.
Alessandro studied me in silence, standing just inches away, invading my space until my breath caught.
Once, that closeness would have made my heart flutter.
Now it only made me tremble. I searched for the spark I used to feel — that pull that could erase everything else — but it wasn’t there.
It hadn’t been there since the moment he stopped being mine.
He wasn’t the man I loved anymore.
“Why did you come back, gattina?”
The question stunned me. His voice wasn’t angry now — just tired, hollow.
I stared at him, unable to answer. I hadn’t come back by choice. Hell, I didn’t even know why I was here.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “You were supposed to be dead,” he said quietly. “How do people come back from the dead?”
I swallowed hard, his words hanging in the air between us like a curse. He moved closer, the bed sinking slightly under his weight as he sat beside me. Every inch between us vanished. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
“They don’t,” I whispered finally.
My voice cracked, but I forced the words out anyway.
“I was never dead.”