A knock on the door echoed.
Breaking through the thick tension suffocating them.
The housekeeper reminded them of lunch, and her aunt strode over to the door. Anxiety stiffened every single muscle on her thin frame.
Within seconds, she was gone, leaving Ana only with doubts and dark memories.
Chapter 17
Blood was pooling all over the room…
Red rivers of death staining the floor.
So much of it had stained her body as well, but her mind was in shock, unable to comprehend it.
“Ana,” Auntie whispered, trembling ever so slightly.
Was that horror in her eyes…or fear?
“It wasn’t my fault,” Ana said.
Auntie merely blinked, letting the silence stretch out in the darkness before she reached out to grip her elbow in a painful hold. “Just come away now.”
But her feet did not want to comply. Flashes of the weapon glinted from across the room, taunting her, reminding her of what had passed.
A sharp yank at her arm finally wrested her eyes away from the scene, forcing her to turn around.
They began to edge out of the room with slow and careful steps, stumbling wildly when Ana’s legs liquefied at the threshold. Her hand shot out to catch herself on the door as black dots swam across her vision, blinding her.
Oh, God.
Everything was spinning on its head. The only lifeline keeping her steady was her aunt, a steely force that propelled them forward.
She hadn’t accepted her statement, though…Ana realized dully. “Do you not believe me?” She turned to her aunt.
“Ana. Now is not the time.”
She swallowed heavily, hurt and dazed. It wasn’t her fault. Not really. No normal person could do this–watch someone bleed out like a sadistic monster. Right?
And yet, here she was stained in that blood, a scarlet accusation. If her aunt wouldn’t even defend her, how would anyone else?
How would Gio?
How could you…
How could you, Ana?
“Ana?”
Her lashes fluttered as Emma’s concerned face came into view. The blonde had set aside her glasses and was peering at her worriedly.
With a startled glance up at the clock, Ana realized it had been an hour since their last meeting had ended. They were supposed to be updating their order logs, but somewhere during that break, Ana had fallen into a trance. Back into the past.
Her laptop screen was dimmed from inactivity.
“Sorry. It’s been a long day,” she mumbled, blearily rubbing her eyes.
It had truly been grueling. Each monthly visit to Pittsburgh was packed full of Daily Couture client meetings, meetings to support Tony, and logistics reviews with the distribution teams. There was no avoiding these hectic month-end marathons.