Chapter 87

Chapter 87
John's POV

I sat beside Cindy's bed for what felt like hours, watching her chest rise and fall with each peaceful breath. The IV drip continued its steady rhythm, each drop a reminder of how fragile she still was. How fragile I had made her.
Maria had fallen asleep in the chair by the window, exhausted from all the drama of the day. The mansion was quiet except for the soft sounds of the medical equipment. I couldn't bring myself to leave Cindy's side, even though she had made it clear she didn't want me near her.
My phone buzzed softly in my pocket, but I ignored it. Nothing was more important than being here, making sure she was okay. Making sure she kept breathing.
I reached out to touch her hand, then stopped myself. She had pulled away from me earlier, told me she didn't want me to touch her. The memory of that rejection still burned in my chest like a physical wound.
"How did everything go so wrong?" I whispered to the quiet room. "I was supposed to protect you, and instead I've hurt you more than anyone ever has."
I couldn't sit still anymore. The weight of everything that had happened was crushing me, and I needed to move, to think, to figure out how to fix this mess.
"I need some air," I said quietly to Maria, who was still sleeping in the chair. She stirred as I spoke.
"Where are you going?" she asked, instantly alert.
"Just downstairs. To the living room. I need to think." I looked back at Cindy one more time. "Stay with her, please. If she wakes up..."
"I'll call you immediately," Maria said, understanding.
I walked out of the room and down the curved staircase to the living room. The marble floors felt cold under my feet, and the silence of the mansion seemed to echo my loneliness. I sat heavily on the leather sofa, putting my head in my hands.
A few minutes later, Maria joined me. She looked as exhausted as I felt.
"We need to talk about what happens when she wakes up," Maria said, sitting across from me. "She's going to be even more upset. She's going to want answers."
"I know," I said. "But how do I explain three months in a coma? How do I make her understand that I didn't choose to leave her?"
Before Maria could answer, we heard the sound of the front door opening. Both of us froze. It was late, and no one was expected.
The sound of heels clicking on marble floors echoed through the mansion. Confident steps, purposeful, like someone who belonged here.
"Are you expecting someone?" Maria whispered, immediately on guard.
I stood up, every muscle in my body tense. "No. No one knows about this place except..."
My words died in my throat as a figure appeared in the doorway of the living room.
Bianca stood there like she owned the mansion, her long blonde hair falling in perfect waves over her shoulders. She was dressed in an expensive cream-colored suit that hugged her curves perfectly. Her makeup was subtle but flawless, making her look like she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine.
"Ciao, bello," she said with a warm smile, her Italian accent making the words sound like music.
"Bianca?" I stood up quickly, shocked to see her here. "What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you."
She crossed the room in three quick steps and wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. I could smell her expensive perfume, the same scent she had worn in Italy. "I missed you, Marco," she said, using the pet name she had given me when I couldn't remember my real name.
The sound of that name sent a chill through me. Marco. That's who I had been for months in Italy, when I didn't know I was John. When I didn't know about Cindy or the life I had left behind.
"You should have told me you were coming," I said, gently pulling away from her embrace. "I would have prepared for your visit."
Bianca smiled, her perfect white teeth catching the light. "Since when do I need an invitation to visit my dear Marco?" Her sharp eyes moved to Maria, who was standing behind me with a guarded expression. "And who is this lovely lady?"
"Maria," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and normal, "this is Bianca. She's... a friend from Italy. Bianca, this is Maria."
Bianca gave Maria a polite nod, but I could see the calculation in her eyes. She was studying Maria the same way a cat studies a mouse.
"Sarah!" I called out. Sarah appeared from the kitchen within seconds, looking alert and ready for action.
"Could you please help Bianca get settled in one of the guest rooms?" I asked. "She'll be staying with us for a while."
"Of course," Sarah said with a professional smile. "Right this way, Miss..."
"Rossi," Bianca said smoothly. "Bianca Rossi."
After Sarah and Bianca disappeared up the stairs, Maria turned to face me with her arms crossed. Her face was full of questions and suspicion.
"Who is she really, John?" Maria asked, her voice low but sharp. "And don't tell me she's just a friend."
I ran my hands through my hair, feeling suddenly exhausted. "She's the one who helped me in Italy. When I woke up from the coma with no memory, her family took me in. They protected me."
"Her family?"
"The Rossi family. They're... influential in Italy." I chose my words carefully, not wanting to explain exactly how influential the Rossi family was. Not wanting to explain that they were one of the most powerful mafia families in southern Italy.
Maria's eyes narrowed. "Influential how?"
"They have connections. Resources. When I was vulnerable and alone, they kept me safe."
"And this Bianca? What's her role in all of this?"
I looked toward the door where Bianca had disappeared. "She was... kind to me. When I couldn't remember anything, she helped me navigate their world. She gave me the name Marco because I couldn't remember my real name."
"She gave you a pet name," Maria said, and I could hear the disapproval in her voice.
"It wasn't like that," I said quickly. "She was helping me survive."
"John, I don't trust her." Maria's voice was firm and protective. "I've seen women like her before. She's beautiful, sophisticated, and dangerous. I can see it in her eyes."
"Not everyone is bad, Maria," I said, feeling defensive. "She helped save my life."
"Maybe she did," Maria said. "But I don't want anyone bothering Cindy. She has sacrificed so much for me and Sarah. She's more like a daughter to me now." She turned to face me directly, her eyes blazing with fierce protectiveness. "If this Bianca is not going to be a problem, then I have no issues with her being here. But if she's going to cause trouble, if she's going to hurt Cindy or make things worse, then it's better we just leave your mansion right now."
The threat in Maria's words was clear. She was ready to take Cindy and Sarah and walk away from all of this if she thought Bianca was a danger.
"She won't cause trouble," I said, but even as I said the words, I wasn't completely sure they were true.
Bianca was many things - beautiful, intelligent, loyal to her family, and yes, dangerous. She had helped me when I needed it most, but she was also a Rossi. And the Rossi family didn't do anything without expecting something in return.
"Why is she here, John?" Maria pressed. "Why now? What does she want?"
I looked down at Cindy's peaceful face, then back at Maria's worried expression. The truth was, I didn't know why Bianca had come. We had parted on good terms in Italy when my memory returned and I rushed back here. She had seemed to understand that I needed to find Cindy, to make things right.
But now she was here, in my home, calling me by the name she had given me when I was lost and broken.
"I don't know," I admitted quietly. "But I'll find out."
Maria nodded grimly. "You better. Because if she does anything to hurt Cindy, if she causes any more drama or stress..." She let the threat hang in the air.
I understood. Maria had already watched Cindy almost die once. She had nursed her back to health, protected her, fought for her. She wasn't going to let anyone - not even someone who had helped me - put Cindy in danger again.
I looked back at Cindy, still unconscious but looking more peaceful than she had earlier. The anger and pain that had twisted her beautiful face during our confrontation was gone now, replaced by the innocent expression of sleep.
But I knew that when she woke up, the anger would return. The hurt would return. And now, with Bianca here, things had just gotten infinitely more complicated.
I had survived the ambush in Italy. I had survived three months in a coma. I had survived losing my memory and finding my way back to myself.
But I wasn't sure I could survive losing Cindy forever. And with Bianca here, that possibility suddenly felt much more real.