Chapter 48
“Am I dead now?”
The words came out dry, cracked, like they’d been sitting in my throat for days. Maybe they had.
My voice didn’t sound like mine. My body didn’t feel like mine either. Everything hurt, ribs, wrists, even the skin on my face. It was like I’d borrowed someone else’s body, and it hated me for it.
Darkness pressed in all around me, heavy and warm, and then, light. Soft. Golden. Familiar in a way that made my heart twist.
I blinked and found myself standing in a field. The air was clearer here, clean, sweet, sunlight spilling like honey across endless green.
For a second, I forgot the pain. Forgot the chains. Forgot everything.
Then I saw them.
A woman, beautiful, graceful, her face a reflection of mine, older, softer. And a man beside her, broad-shouldered, kind eyes, smiling like he’d known me forever. He was a spitting image of my stepmother.
My heart stopped.
“Mom…Dad.” My voice broke on the second word. “Why did you leave me alone? Can I come with you now?”
My mother’s eyes, the same deep emerald green I’d seen in mirrors my whole life, met mine.
“No, Aratrika,” she said softly, shaking her head. “You can’t come with us. Not yet.”
My knees buckled. “Please…” My voice came out small, childlike. “I don’t want to stay there anymore.”
She smiled sadly. “They still need you. There’s love waiting for you. Purpose. Don’t give up on it.”
Her words hit like cold water. I shook my head, backing away. “No, I’m tired. I’m done. You left me!”
I tried to run towards them. My legs moved, but it felt like wading through cement, every step slower, heavier, until—
A hand caught me. Rough and warm.
“Please, Ara. Come back to me.”
Hazel eyes. Sharp, desperate, trembling with something rawer than fear.
“D-Dominic?”
His voice broke. “Come back.”
The field blurred. The light burned white, swallowing everything; them, him, the world.
And then—
I woke up.
The light was blinding. Cold. Not golden, sterile, sharp. My ribs screamed. My head spun. I couldn’t move. Machines beeped somewhere close by. I heard voices.
“Versace—”
My eyelids fluttered open, vision swimming. White walls. Blue scrubs. A smell of antiseptic and something faintly metallic.
And him.
Dominic.
He was sitting beside my bed, still in bloodstained clothes, face pale, eyes wild with sleeplessness.
The moment my gaze landed on him, something in my chest jerked.
Not fear, not confusion. It was recognition. Safety. Instinct.
I reached for the straps of the mask, the plastic feeling heavy and suffocating against my skin. I wanted to feel the fresh air and him without anything in my way.
Before I could hook a finger under the elastic, he rushed towards me, his hand over mine, gently but firmly pinning my wrist back down to the mattress.
“No,” He rasped, his voice thick with a sudden, sharp authority. “Don’t touch it. Keep it on.”
I looked up at him, my brow furrowing in a silent plea. But he didn't budge.
He leaned closer, his face inches from the clear plastic, his eyes searching mine with a desperate intensity.
“The nurse will come check on you first before you take it off,” he whispered, his thumb stroking the back of my hand. “Breathe for me, okay, Ara? Focus on breathing.”
“You came for me.” I whispered, voice trembling, barely audible through the plastic.
For a split second, he just stared, eyes glassy, throat working. Then he pressed my hands to his lips like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.
“Of course, I did. I’m sorry I was late,” he said, voice breaking.
He tried to keep his distance, but I tugged weakly until he finally gave in, leaning down, wrapping one arm around me, careful not to hurt me.
I buried my face against his shoulder. I didn’t even know why. It only felt right. Safe. Like I’d been drowning and finally broke the surface.
When I finally pulled back, his jaw was tight. The doctor and a nurse were frozen near the door, stunned. My mother’s hand covered her mouth. Sanaa’s eyes glistened.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Miss Versace, please. Try not to move too much. You’ve just regained consciousness.”
My gaze flickered to him. My brain felt scrambled, fogged. “Where am I?”
“In the hospital. You were badly injured but you’re safe now.”
The nurse came closer, checking the monitor then taking the oxygen mask off. “You can take this off. But put it back on if you start to feel dizzy.”
The doctor clicked a button on the wall monitor, and a grainy black and white image appeared.
“This is a scan of your brain, Miss Versace. The good news is that the physical scans of your brain are clear,” he explained, pointing to the screen.
“Luckily there is no internal bleeding or swelling. Physically, you’re healing remarkably well.”
He turned back to me, his expression softening. “How are you feeling?”
I looked at the scan, then at him.
A tear slipped from my left eye. My head felt heavy, like it was filled with cotton. “I feel, okay? I can’t really say.”
“That’s to be expected,” he replied. “You’ve been through a lot. You were brought here after you barely escaped a kidnapping.”
I blinked, the word sounding foreign. “I was?”
Before he could answer, the door swung open.
Two men rushed in, their faces tight with worry. Mother, Asvika and Sanaa looked sympathetic and the man in the lead looked like he hadn't slept in days.
He walked closer reaching for my hand, his eyes shining with relief. “Thank God,” he breathed, his voice cracking. “We thought we’d lost you.”
I pulled my hand back instinctively, pressing into the thin hospital mattress. The man and his other companion made my heart hammer against my ribs.
“W-who are you?” I whispered in a trembling voice.
The silence that followed was deafening. The man froze, his hand still hovering in the air. His face didn't just show sadness; it showed a total shattering heartbreak.
The doctor moved quickly, stepping between us. He didn't look at the monitor anymore. He looked at me, his eyes sharp and observant. “Miss Versace, do you know who this man is?” He gestured to the one by the left.
I stared at him; he was dressed in a bodyguard outfit. I saw the shape of his nose, the colour of his eyes, but there was no ‘click’. No warmth.
“No,” I whispered, my heart beginning to race. “I’ve never seen him before.”
The doctor made a quick, firm note on his clipboard. He turned to the family, his voice lowered but professional.
“This confirms what I suspected. It isn’t a physical break in her brain, but a psychological one. This is selective dissociative amnesia.”
“But the scan was clear!” The man by the window snapped his voice tight with desperation.
"The scan shows the brain is physically intact," the doctor explained calmly.
"But amnesia of this type is a defence mechanism.
Her mind has essentially 'blacked out' the moments surrounding her trauma to protect her from the memories of the kidnapping.
To her, that time period and the people she met or grew close to during them, simply do not exist right now. "
Dominic’s grip on my hand tightened. I felt him stiffen beside me.
"Wait," I said, the fog in my head thickening. "If I've been gone for a long time, why do I remember him?" I looked up at Dominic.
The doctor softened his gaze. "In cases of trauma, the mind often clings to a single 'anchor'—someone who represents safety or the final moment of rescue. Your brain has discarded the pain, but it kept him."
The doctor clicked off the monitor. “The physical scans are clear, which is actually the key to your diagnosis,” he explained, his voice steady.
“Because there is no structural damage to explain why you can't remember the last three months, we know this is selective dissociative amnesia.
Your brain has essentially 'pulled a fuse' to prevent a total system overload from the trauma you survived.”
Asvika stepped forward, her eyes searching mine, desperate to find a crack in the wall. “Ara, think,” she whispered.
“Last week, before they found you—we were in that basement. You told me about the enterprise you wanted to buy. You told me you weren't afraid. Do you remember that?”
I tried to remember it, but all I felt was pain. “N-no…”
She leaned in closer, her voice trembling with a desperate hope. “Ara, please. What of the meeting Sanaa and I were supposed to have with you? You have to remember.”
I closed my eyes, trying to force my mind back into that dark room she described. I reached for a memory, any memory. But the harder I pushed, the more a sharp, white-hot pain began to throb behind my eyes. It felt like a physical wall in my brain was pushing back, fighting me.
“I... I can’t,” I gasped, my breathing turning into shallow hitches.
The heart monitor began to beep faster; a frantic, rhythmic chirping that filled the room. The white walls started to tilt. The faces around me blurred into smears of colour.
“Ara? Ara, look at me!” Dominic’s voice was far away, booming through a tunnel.
My hands began to shake uncontrollably. My jaw locked, and a strange, electric hum vibrated through my entire body.
I wasn't just crying anymore, I was vibrating, my muscles snapping tight as my brain tried to process a truth it wasn't ready for.
“She’s seizing!” Someone yelled.
“No, it’s a psychogenic shock,” the doctor’s voice commanded over the chaos. “Get the sedative. She’s overloading!”
The last thing I felt was Dominic’s hand catching my head before the world simply snapped.
I woke up to the smell of orchids and rain. But for some reason the orchids made me want to puke, it was like I had an unexplainable hatred for them.
It wasn't the sterile, metallic scent of the hospital. The light wasn't sharp and white; it was soft, filtered through heavy silk curtains. I didn't hear beeping. I heard the distant, melodic trickle of a fountain.
I blinked slowly. I was in a massive, canopy bed. The room was huge, filled with dark wood furniture and soft rugs, but as I looked to my left, I saw the familiar gleam of an IV stand and a silent heart monitor.
“You’re okay,” a low voice said.
Dominic was there. He was sitting in a velvet armchair pulled right up to the edge of the mattress. He looked like he hadn't moved in a century.
“Where...?” My voice was a scratchy whisper.
“A private recovery suite,” he said, leaning forward to take my hand.
His skin was warm, grounding. “The hospital was too loud, too many triggers. This is a medical estate right next to the clinic. The doctors are downstairs, but up here... up here it’s just peaceful.
You had a seizure, Ara. Your brain shut down because you were pushing it too hard. ”
I looked toward the large glass doors at the end of the room. Outside, it was dark, yet a lush, private garden stretched out, the green leaves glistening with dew.
“You’re on their watch,” he whispered, kissing my knuckles. “But you’re safe. No more questions. No more trying to remember. We’re going to stay here until the fog clears on its own. Your mom and friends will come check on you soon.”
“You stayed.”
He gave a quiet laugh, low and rough. “I promised I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?”
I managed a faint nod. My gaze drifted up to his face, tired, bruised, yet so focused it almost hurt to look at. That kind of attention scared me more than any threat ever could.
He looked like he’d been crying. Dominic? Tears?
He came closer, kissing the top of my head carefully. “You should go back to sleep, it's late. I’ll be in a room beside yours.”
I did still feel tired, so I didn’t argue, I laid down on the soft sheets watching him leave as I closed my eyes.
But sleep didn’t come easily.
The dark brought whispers. At first, they were faint, like the wind brushing the window. Then louder. Cruel.
“You’re an heir, aren’t you? Then you’re worth nothing but pain.”
“Your blood is a curse.”
“You’ll beg before you die, Versace.”
I saw flashes, faceless men, blood, a knife catching the light. My wrists burned. My lungs filled with panic.
“Stop— please stop—!” I screamed, thrashing against the sheets. “Please, I didn’t— I didn’t do anything!”
The door burst open.
“Ara!” Dominic’s voice cut through the nightmare. He was beside me before I could blink, gripping my shoulders as I sobbed and fought the air.
“Don’t— don’t touch me—” I gasped, but then I saw his face — real, not one of theirs— and something in me cracked.
“Please,” I whispered, broken. “Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be here. I’m scared. Please…”
His jaw clenched. Then, without a word, he pulled me into his arms, carefully not tugging the wires.
“Shh… it’s okay,” he murmured against my hair. “You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”
I buried my face in his chest, clutching his shirt until my fingers hurt. His heartbeat was steady, grounding. Real.
“Stay with me please, the bed can fit two,” I whispered, shuddering.
“But you’re a patient, I don't want to make you uncomforta-”
“No! No, I'll never be uncomfortable, so please,” I begged, ashamed. But I’d rather shame caught me than the monsters alone.
He froze, then nodded. “Alright.”
He set me down, tucked the blanket around me, and sat at the edge of the bed. “Sleep,” he said quietly. “I’ll be right here.”
The silence wasn’t empty anymore. It was warm. Still fragile, but warm.
“Dominic,” I whispered after a long while.
“Yeah?”
I hesitated, eyes tracing the shadows across his face. “Why were you a substitute professor in my university that year?”
He went still, then exhaled slowly. “Because I was undercover.”
I blinked. “Undercover?”
He nodded. “Someone on the board was leaking family intel to outsiders. I couldn’t risk exposure. The only way to find them was from the inside.”
My chest tightened. “So… all that time, you weren’t just—”
“A professor?” His mouth twitched into a tired half-smile. “No. But I liked it. The quiet. It reminded me of what normal felt like. And someone made my class interesting. She called me a paedophile.”
Red stained my cheeks as I remembered making sure he knew I thought he was a paedophile. “So you watched me all that time?”
He turned to meet my gaze. “No,” he said softly. “I protected you all that time. Then, I didn’t know you had ties to the mafia.”
Silence settled again, not awkward, not heavy. Just real.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He brushed his thumb along the edge of the blanket. “Sleep, Ara. You’ve fought enough for tonight.”
This time, I listened.
The last thing I remembered was his voice, low beside me, and the soft sound of him turning off the light.
For the first time in weeks, the dark didn’t chase me.