been able to ask Eleanora anything about Vitto and my brother. I wonder how she got the letter and whether there will be more to come. My questions are answered when she hands me a pad of papers and a pen the next day. She wants me to write them back.
I sit in front of the fireplace, nervously tapping my pen against paper. I don't know what to tell them. Don't know how to put my feelings into paper. Shame burns my cheeks as I begin writing, crossing things out, throwing paper after paper into the fireplace. I feel guilty for not being more torn up about my parents' death. About losing our family home. I feel awful because try as I might I can't quite bring myself to hate Adrian. I hate his father, but I've always had a blind spot for Adrian, and no matter how hard I try to tell myself I want him dead, the truth is far away from that.
Finally, I write a short letter, telling myself they'll have to understand my confusion. I express my concern for Luigi and even force myself to ask about Vitto and how he's doing. I hand the letter to Eleanora.
She wordlessly pockets it and leaves my room.
After she disappears, I stand in front of the mirror as I run through the events of the past week in my head, thinking about Eleanora, about Adrian, about Bruno Bernardi. I wonder if I'll ever get out of here alive. If there's any hope left for me.
I glance at the door wondering when Eleanora will be back. I want to try another canvas painting today before Adrian gets back, because I'm not sure I can hand over the one I did of Adrian. I don't think I could bear him looking at his likeness in the painting while I watch—it would be awfully embarrassing.
As I stare at the door, my brows knit together. Am I imagining things or is the door slightly open?
My heart begins to pound. I can't believe this is real. Surely, it's too soon for this to be a sign from Eleanora that it's time for me to escape. I bite my lower lip, wondering what to do. As quietly as I can, I walk over to the door and test it, making sure it's really open.
It is.
I rush through the room nervously, trying to decide what to take with me. But I barely have any time. I could get busted any second now and when I do, my chance of escape will be gone. They'll reprimand Eleanora and I'll have an even smaller chance of ever getting out of this house.
Without hesitation, I sneak out of the room and into the hallway. There's no one around, the sound of my footsteps echoing in the empty house. I'm too afraid to breathe properly, running down the stairs onto the ground floor of the Estate. I see a maid approaching and dash behind a column, successfully managing to hide before she can spot something's off. The moment she rounds the corner, I'm off again.
This time, I run through the house and into the garden through the open French doors in the salon. I hear voices, Bruno's being one of them, and dart behind a large flower pot. He comes to a stop right in front of it, talking on the phone, and my heart beats nervously in my chest as he chuckles into the receiver, saying something about paychecks.
What's stopping him from killing me right now, if he spots me? Adrian's not here, he can't help. I'm completely at Bruno's mercy, so I have to make sure he doesn't notice me. I make myself as small and invisible as I can behind that flower pot, waiting for him to walk away. For several excruciatingly long seconds I'm certain he's going to find me hiding there, but luckily, he walks away, still distracted by his call.
I rush forward then, taking off deeper into the woods behind the house. I hear the noise of a car's engine and glance behind my back, my blood freezing in my veins when I see the familiar black limo pulling up in front of the Estate. That'll be Adrian, back home. How long is it going for one of them to notice I've escaped?
I don't have to spend much time thinking about the last one, because that moment, a high-pitched shriek comes from inside the house. I instantly know my time is running out and