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“Visit the hospital tomorrow and get back to me about the bills.”
Everything falls apart as I hear my mother’s name. I stand at his study door, sapped of my strength and willpower.
“Are you talking about my mother?” I say.
He sees me and sighs.
“Maybe letting you walk around the house was a mistake,” he says.
I grab his shirt. “What’s—what’s wrong with my mother?” I ask again.
He pulls my hands away. “There is nothing to worry about. Go back to your room, Alyssa.”
“I—I—I heard the guard,” I say, pointing to the man who had just left. “He said something about someone’s mother. Did you discuss my mother?”
My words are so jumbled that they make no sense. He shakes his head and looks at me.
“I told you that I’ll handle it,” he says.
I fall on my knees at his feet and clutch his legs. Tears run down my face, blinding me.
“Antonio, my mother—Laura, they are all I have, please. Please let me see my mother,” I beg.
He sighs audibly. “You weren’t supposed to find out about it, but I guess you just can’t stop yourself from snooping around,” he says.
I look up at him, sobbing, and I shake my head. “I just came to speak to you. I swear that I wasn’t snooping. Yesterday, I—I came to look at the books in your study, I swear. Please let me see my mother just once,” I say.
He looks down at me as I sob, then he lowers his hands to my face. He strokes my chin to wipe the tears as I cry. “Go back upstairs and get some rest,” he says.
He shakes out of my grip, and I fall to the cold marble floor, still sobbing as he walks away.
I go upstairs and lie on my bed, the tears drying on my face. Every few seconds, my brain comes up with some new torture my mother and Laura must be enduring. I wonder if Ray had kept his word and has had his eyes on them. I wonder how Antonio found out about my daily life and what he plans to do with them.
There is a knock on my door, and I let out a curse.
“For fuck’s sake, Mary, I do not want to eat!” I scream, tossing the pillow across the room.
The door opens slowly, and Antonio walks into the room just in time for the pillow to land at his feet. He picks the pillow from the floor, walks back to me, and tosses it back on the bed. I turn away as he comes closer.
He clears his throat. “I heard from the maids that you’ve refused every meal, including dinner.”
I don’t answer. I press down on the sheets, wishing I was squeezing his neck or punching his stupid face.
“I had dinner specially prepared for you. Come down, or I’ll bring you down myself,” he says.
I get up without a word, and he sighs as he sees my face.
“You’re so pale. Splash some water on your face before you come down for dinner,” he says, walking off.
I don’t wash my face or splash water on it. I go down to dinner bare-faced. The table is covered with food, but I don’t take a bite of anything at the table or on my plate. There is no room inside me for anything but anger and pain.
“Why aren’t you eating?” he asks after about five minutes of me sitting motionless at the table.
I turn to him. “You don’t even know how cruel you are,” I say.
He sighs. “Alyssa, your mother is fine. I took care of it.”
“How can I believe that?” I cry.
