ISABELLA
The headache hits me first. Before the nausea. Before I even have a chance to open my eyes.
It thrums through my skull like a neverending call to battle that I have no chance of surviving. It feels like every cell in my brain is deprived of oxygen, and I can’t breathe it fast enough.
It would be dizzying if my eyes were open. And when I finally do open them, I promptly vomit.
Conveniently, there’s a bucket next to my bed. I’m not sure if I manage to get all of it in or who put it there. But the effort of hurling my guts takes its toll, and I promptly fall back to sleep.
The next time I wake up, the bucket is clean. I still feel dizzy, and my head still throbs, but for the first time, I can look slightly further than the edge of my bed.
There’s a drip attached to my arm and a monitor that beeps in time with my heartbeat. The room itself is unfamiliar and sterile. A hospital, maybe?
Why would I be in a hospital?
There’s a shuffle outside my door, so I close my eyes again, feigning sleep, only to become overwhelmed by my exhaustion once more and fall asleep once more.
When I wake up again, my headache has gone. It still takes some time for me to dispel the feeling of nausea. But after a few moments of staring up at the light above me, the dizziness subsides.
Slowly, I push myself up into a sitting position and take stock of the condition of my body. Everything seems fine. There’s no pain anywhere other than the ghost of a headache now.
I’m wearing a simple hospital gown, though, and my little black dress and heels are nowhere to be found.
I sigh but then wince as my breath harshly passes over my chapped lips.
Luckily, someone seems to have left a glass of water nearby, so I reach over to take it.
Only for my ears to be assaulted by the sound of metal clanging against metal.
I glance down at my wrist and the handcuff that is wrapped around it. I tug against it again for good measure, but it’s locked onto the bar of my hospital bed.
What the hell happened?
Thankfully, I don’t have to wait too long for an answer.
There’s movement behind the door opposite me, and I brace myself for a doctor or a cop, who will undoubtedly start asking questions.
But when the door opens, neither walks through.
“You’re awake,” Teo Vitale says, entirely unalarmed by the situation.
I gape at him. “What did you do to me?”
“Ididn’t do anything,” he nods at the drip still attached to my arm. “Youtook enough tranquilizer to kill a bear.”
I begin to retort, but my memories return to me like a burst damn. The Candelabra,Teo talking me to a secluded corner, slipping the contents of my mother’s vial into his champagne, flirting. Needing him to follow me out of there.
Except…
It all begins to blur after he puts his hand on my thigh.
“What,” I hiss, tears already forming in my eyes, “did you do?”
“I switched the glasses,” he replies softly, barely moving an inch. “You drank and began to flirt with me. You were already falling asleep before anything happened, so I picked you up and walked you out to avoid suspicion.”
“You expect me to trust your word?”
He points to the TV screen hanging on the wall. “No. But you can rewatch the CCTV footage if you’d like.” He waves a remote at me for good measure.
