CHAPTER 256: FRACTURING BONDS
CHAPTER 256: FRACTURING BONDS
The mid-morning sun cast long squares of pale light across the floor of the master suite.
Maria stood in the doorway, holding a silver tray loaded with a bowl of warm oatmeal, fresh berries, a cup of chamomile tea, and a small glass jar of traditional almond biscuits. She had spent an hour in the penthouse kitchen preparing everything, pouring every drop of her hope and affection into the small meal.
The almond biscuits were a recipe from their early years in London, back when a sweet treat was the only comfort they could afford after a long, terrifying week on the streets.
Bella was sitting propped up against a stack of white pillows.
She looked weak, her dark hair pulled back into a loose knot, her skin still pale, her eyes fixed blankly on the television playing silently on the opposite wall.
"Hey," Maria said softly, putting on a bright, encouraging smile as she stepped into the room. "I brought you some breakfast. The chef let me use the good honey from the market, and I found the almond biscuits you used to love."
Bella didn't turn her head. She didn't move a single muscle.
Maria swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, keeping her smile fixed as she walked over to the side of the bed.
She set the tray down on the bedside table and pulled up the wooden chair. "It's really nice outside today. Maybe later we can get Alexandro to help move you to the balcony? The fresh air would do you wonders."
"Take it away, Maria," Bella said flatly, her voice cold and devoid of any warmth.
Maria paused, her hand hovering over the glass jar. "Bella, you haven't eaten a solid meal in days. You need to keep your strength up."
"I said take it away!" Bella snapped, her dark eyes flashing as she finally turned her head to glare at Maria.
Maria flinched, but she stood her ground, her brow pulling into a worried knot. "Bella, please... don't do this. I know you're angry, and I know you're terrified, but starving yourself isn't going to help!"
Terrified.
The word echoed in Bella’s mind like a physical blow.
The idea that Maria, the small, fragile girl who used to hide behind Bella’s coat whenever a street gang passed by, was now looking down at her with soft, pitiful concern turned Bella’s stomach into a boiling cauldron of humiliation.
"Don't talk to me like you know what I am going through!" Bella spat, her voice rising into a sharp tremble. "Look at you! Standing there looking at me like I'm some tragic, broken charity case!"
"That's not what I'm doing!" Maria pleaded, tears welling in her dark eyes. "I care about you, Bella! You're my sister!"
"I am not your sister!" Bella shrieked, her self-control snapping completely.
In a sudden, frantic surge of fury, Bella’s arm whipped across the bedside table.
Her hand slammed into the silver tray, sending the porcelain bowl, the hot tea, the glass jar, and the metal utensils flying across the room.
The cup shattered against the hardwood floor. Hot tea splashed across the white rug, and the glass jar exploded into sharp fragments against the base of the wardrobe, scattering crushed almond biscuits over the wood.
Maria gasped, jumping backward as hot liquid splashed against her sneakers.
"Get out!" Bella screamed, her chest heaving as tears of pure humiliation spilled over her lashes.
She grabbed her pillow and threw it at Maria with all her strength. "Get out of here! Go back to London! Go back to your quiet, safe little life and leave me alone! You're useless here!"
Maria stood frozen amidst the broken glass and spilled tea, her face drained of all color.
You're useless here.
The words sliced through Maria’s chest with sharp precision.
She stared at Bella, at the red, frantic face of her best friend, at the wild, desperate terror burning in those dark eyes, and realized that the unbreakable woman she had idolized for years felt completely ruined.
"Bella..." Maria choked out, her voice breaking into a sob.
"Get out!" Bella sobbed, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking violently as she collapsed back against the mattress.
Maria couldn't breathe. The air in the room felt heavy and suffocating.
She turned on her heel and ran out of the master suite, her sneakers squeaking against the floorboards as she fled into the corridor.
She sprinted past the living room, ignoring Rosa’s gentle call from the kitchen, and rushed straight to the private elevator.
She jammed her thumb against the ground-floor button, her body shaking with uncontrollable, gasping sobs as the steel doors slid shut, sealing her in dark, silent isolation.
She felt completely helpless. All her technical skills, all her intelligence, all her love meant nothing in the face of Bella’s catastrophic pain.
She couldn't fix her friend's legs. She couldn't wipe away the dark, violent reality of Citernera.
By the time Maria burst out of the residential building and stumbled into the cool afternoon air, her vision was completely blurred by tears.
She didn't care where she was walking; she just needed to get away from the penthouse, away from the smell of antiseptics, away from the suffocating ghost of the woman who had once been her protector.