Devon froze when he saw Carmella standing in front of a treatment room in the ER. "Carmella? What are you doing here." He quickly stood on his own and pulled a little off Sofia – they had met through the family's business, the princess Anton had chosen to rule his empire beside his son.
Carmella had seen her, from the pictures Marco had just dumped on her, but she thought nothing of her, merely as a ghost from his past, a shadow in a dark room, an irrelevant memory. But seeing them walk into that ER, she knew she has had it all wrong.
Suddenly she realized, as they stood there in that quiet ER, that she had missed it all along, and it all began to make sense, flashes of the signs she should have caught, there's no way she should have been blind for so long, but love? It really does blind if it leads a man guided by the heart.
"So, this is Carmella," Sofia snorted out sarcastically in a jest as she took a step closer to Carmella
Carmella raised her heavily bandaged hand, and said, "thanks to your precious sister." As she did, he quickly dove in front of Sofia without even taking a beat.
His instinctive move caused her heart to sink even deeper, as though cast with a rock, but she forced a tight smile, it was all not making sense, but one thing was certain, she needed answers.
Devon frowned at the sight of her hand wrapped in those mummy makers, and he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Sofia did.
"Shouldn't you be at a birthday party or whatever? And Martina is such a darling, she wouldn't hurt you."
Carmella almost burst out laughing, "such a darling,"
"And what does that have to do with you exactly?" she asked, her eyes so cold they only caused fear, she looked at Sofia and her hand held protectively in Devon's. But her heart did not ache anymore, even though she never thought it, but in her heart, it was the beginning of the end, it was over.
As she turned to take her leave, Devon wanted an apology for how she had spoken, to he and Sofia, but those cold eyes, they shut him up, he had never seen her like that, maybe it was time to take his father's advice and end it once and for all, like the family always have – with a gift to the back of the head.
Carmella walked out to her car under the dimly lit flickering streetlights, pulling together her thin jacket around her arms. Before she could drive off, she made a promise to herself – she will find out the truth, and whatever it may be, she was done being married to Devon.
When she arrived home, the villa was dark and silent, the moonlight shone bright, casting a glow on the silence. As she stood by the beautifully crafted wooden door, a chill shiver was sent down her spine, what she once believed to be her safe haven, turned out to be a one-sided fantasy that was made up for her.
There was only one thing to do… Once she got in, she washed up and looked at the drive. She called Marco afterwards – he was always quiet at the other end of the phone when she was mad at him.
"I'm ready," she said once the call went through, "I want to know more of this truth you have," she added.
"It's late. We meet tomorrow, I'll text you the details." He said and cut off communication.
She was just about to set her phone down when she heard his car pull up…
"I didn't think you'd be up," Devon said as he stepped in the room to find her reading on the bed.
He walked over to the bed, gently ran his hand through her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear, then took her hands and kissed them. "I'm sorry for how today turned out," he said gently setting them down on the bed.
He looked into her eyes like he meant the words he said, but she knew how false they were. Before she went home that night, she went back to the hospital when she realized she had forgotten to pick her prescription at the nurse's station.
That was when she overheard them – Devon had left her birthday to go pick Sofia at the airport and got into a fight because she was being harassed. They said other things too – she was a pawn and it was time to take her off the board.
She didn't stay to hear the rest of their conversation, she took her drugs and left.
And now he was back, pretending nothing had happened, like he didn't disrespect her.
"I know, let me take you out tomorrow, organize something a little small, to make up for party earlier. After my meeting I'll pick you up and we celebrate your birthday properly. You only turned 25 once." He offered, his face lighting up.
"I don't feel like going out." She said, her voice flat and the expression on Devon's face darkened for a second, but it vanished just as quickly.
Replaced by a warm smile, he said, "come on, I have invited friends and family, plus Martina wants to apologize."
She agreed to his request so he'd get of her back, but she had no intention of staying long, she no longer felt safe around her own husband.
As he stood up to shower and get changed, she looked on from where she sat, her mind began to pace, the table knife was there from the toast he had eaten earlier that morning. A string of replays in her head, and the thoughts of her actions justified with every passing second, she could no longer take it, stood up and reached for the tray.
On reaching the tray, she picked up the knife, and was about walking to the shower where Devon was, that was when her phone buzzed. She took a beat and set down the knife slowly on the tray, 'what was I thinking,' she thought to herself and looked at her phone, it was Marco – a time and place to meet later that day.
But she could not wait, she grabbed her phone and left for another room, she couldn't trust herself to sleep next to him.
While she slept, Devon walked in and sat next to her on the bed, as he watched her sleep, a part of him wondered if he could undo what was already in motion. But power had no room for regret, he chose power over a chance at love. The curse of a man drunk on influence.