Chapter 61 Behind the mask (second half)
Carlino's POV
By the time we reach the house, my patience is gone. I carry her straight to the bedroom.
“Get water. Clear the hall. Call medical,” I bark over my shoulder.
She stirs just as I lay her on the bed. Her lashes flutter. “Don’t,” she murmurs weakly.
“Don’t what?” I demand.
“No doctor.”
Not this again.
“You fainted,” I say flatly.
“I’m tired.”
“You don’t collapse from being tired.”
She pushes herself up slightly, stubborn even now. “It was stress.”
“You’ve been nauseous for weeks,” I say sharply. “You think I don’t notice?”
Her eyes flicker. Too quick.
“That was nothing.”
“Nothing?” My voice drops. “You nearly passed out at dinner three nights ago. Yesterday morning you couldn’t finish your coffee.”
She looks away.
“You ask questions like an interrogator,” she mutters.
“Because you answer like a liar.”
That earns me a glare. Even pale and shaken, she doesn’t lose that defiance.
“I said I’m fine.”
“And I said you’re not.”
Silence stretches between us.
Her breathing steadies slowly, but there’s tension in her shoulders. Resistance. “You don’t get to decide this,” she says quietly.
“I do,” I reply.
She laughs faintly, bitter. “You think you control everything.”
“I control what threatens my house.”
“And I’m a threat now?”
“You’re becoming unpredictable.”
“That’s not an illness,” she shoots back.
I step closer to the bed. “Fainting is.”
She swallows. “Carlino—”
“No,” I cut her off. “This ends tonight.”
Her jaw sets. “I’m not a fragile ornament you can send to a doctor every time I feel sick.”
“And I’m not a man who ignores patterns,” I fire back.
She hesitates.
Just enough.
“Patterns?” she echoes.
“You’ve been off for weeks,” I say. “Nausea. Fatigue. Now this.”
Her hand tightens around the sheet. “Stress,” she insists again.
“You expect me to believe that?”
Her silence answers for her.
Anger flickers through me—not at her weakness, but at the secrecy. “You think hiding it makes you stronger?” I ask.
“I think not everything requires your intervention.”
“If it affects my world, it does.”
“And I’m part of your world?” she challenges softly.
That question lands harder than the masked man’s taunts. I don’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
Her breath catches. For a moment, something unspoken hangs there.
Then I straighten.
“This isn’t optional,” I say, voice steady again. “You faint in front of my enemy and expect me to ignore it?”
Her eyes widened slightly. “He saw that?”
“Yes.”
A flicker of frustration crosses her face. Not fear. Annoyance.
“You shouldn’t have brought me,” she mutters, shifting blames.
“You insisted.”
“And you let me.”
That’s true. I don’t respond. Instead, I turn toward the door.
She sits up quickly. “Carlino.”
I pause but don’t look back.
“I don’t need a doctor,” she says, firmer now.
“You fainted.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“You don’t get to dismiss this.”
“And you don’t get to command my body.”
My hand tightens on the doorframe. “You think this is about control?” I ask quietly.
“Yes.”
“It’s about risk.”
“I’m not your asset.”
“No,” I agree. “You’re my responsibility.”
Silence.
I hear her shift on the bed behind me. “You don’t know that,” she says softly.
I turn slightly at that. “Don’t know what?”
But she doesn’t answer. Her gaze drops. There’s something there. Something she’s not saying.
My patience snaps. “That’s enough,” I say flatly.
I step into the hallway and signal one of the guards.
“Get the doctor,” I ordered.
Behind me, I hear her sharp inhale. “Carlino—”
I won't turn back this time. “I’m done asking,” I say coldly. “You’ve been going through too many of these ‘nothing’ episodes.”
The guard nods and disappears down the hall. I close the bedroom door halfway and face her again.
Her eyes are wide now—not weak. Not defiant.
Something else.
Fear?
Not me.
Of what comes next.
“I’ll call for a doctor,” I say evenly. “And we’ll find out exactly why you’ve been going through all these series of illnesses.”
Her lips part as if to argue—