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My chest tightens at her words, not understanding what she means. “Murdered?” I ask gently. "Tell me more," coax.
She takes a shaky breath, gripping my hand as if it's the only thing anchoring her to reality. "He was shot, Fiero. Right in front of me. And I couldn't do anything to save him. I've had nightmares about it ever since, but this one felt so much more real, like... like I was there, reliving it all over again."
“Oh darling!” I gasp. “You never told me. Shot in front of your eyes?” I don’t even need her to tell me how she feels. I, too, saw my parents being shot. The pain lasts to date, and for her, it’s still just so fresh.
I struggle to comprehend how anyone could endure such trauma, let alone while trying to live her life to the best of her capabilities. My heart aches for her, and I squeeze her hand reassuringly.
"Romola, I am so, so sorry that you had to go through that," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "No one should have to witness something so terrible. Tell me, who did it? Where’s the bastard now?" I grip her hand.
She pauses, looking up at me like she’s suddenly afraid again. I wish I’d never asked. She shakes her head before muttering a simple, “I don’t know.”
I nod and let it go.
She sniffles, wiping her tears with the back of her free hand. "It changed everything, Fiero. I’m now always petrified of losing someone else I love. And sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, I can't escape the past."
"Romola," I say softly, searching her eyes as I speak. "I know that I can't change what happened, but please know that there are ways to comfort you.”
“Are there?” she asks doubtfully.
"Romola," I say gently, "I've been thinking... I know someone who might be able to help you find some closure or understanding about your father's death."
She looks up at me, her eyes red-rimmed from crying but curiosity shining through her tears. "Who are you talking about?"
"His name is Sibyl," I explain, holding her gaze. "He’s helped me through my darkest days. A powerful Seer, one of the best in Italy, he’s aided many with answers to questions that have haunted them for years. He doesn’t just see anyone and no longer takes clients, but on my behest…” my words trail off.
Romola furrows her brow, considering my words. "Do you really think he could help me heal? What could he possibly have to say to me to make sense of Papa’s violent death?”
I nod, my conviction clear in my voice. "If anyone can help you find those answers, it's him. I've seen his work before, Romola, and it's nothing short of extraordinary."
We sit in silence for a moment as she processes this information, and with each passing second, the weight of her grief seems to lessen ever so slightly, slowly replaced by a glimmer of hope.
"Alright, Fiero," she says finally, mildly reluctant. "I'll see this Seer. If there's even a chance he can help me find closure, it's worth a try. When do we go?""
“Right away,” I decide, putting all other agendas to a stop. What matters most is Romola’s peace of mind, and right now, I know it’s Sybil she needs, not Tuscany.
“What?” she protests in disbelief. "Consulting the Seer might help me find answers, Fiero... but what about your original plan? The wine and apples - Tuscany?" she asks, shaking her head. "You've planned this whole thing out, and now we're just going to... put it all on hold?"
I meet her gaze. "Romola, your well-being comes first. If visiting the Seer can help you heal, then that's what we must do. Tuscany can wait."
Her grey eyes lock onto mine, searching for any hint of doubt or hesitation. Finding none, a fragile smile emerges. I nod briefly before ringing the attendant’s button.
She arrives. “Tell the pilot to turn around. We must head back to Rome. Now.”
“Si, Signore,” she says before turning on her heels to deliver my message.
"Thank you, Fiero," Romola murmurs, sounding tired. "You are being so good to me, much more than I deserve..."
"I don’t know what I would do without you, cara mia," I reply softly, our fingers intertwining as a silent promise to stand by her side, no matter what comes our way.
Chapter 34
Romola
Fiero insisted he drive me; his security entourage and their vehicles surrounded ours. “I want us to have privacy,” he had said when we landed back in Rome.
Fiero wastes no time. We landed and started driving to the outskirts of Rome, where Sybil lives. We drive in silence, and I stare out at the scenery, collecting my thoughts. Occasionally, Fiero glances in my direction with concern, waiting to see if I’d like a conversation.
Although he’s in the driver's seat, he’s waiting for me to show him what I do and don’t want—for me to say the first word.
