Page 90 of Ruin

I took the envelope, my hands shaking slightly as I opened it. Inside was the sharp white box of a new phone.

“I am sorry, we cannot set it up for you here. You will have to do that when you get back home.” He hesitated before adding, “There is a plane ticket in there too. First class. And you will have a private car to take you back to Naples. No bus this time.”

I pulled out the plane ticket, the weight of it in my hands feeling surreal. My fingers traced the letters, trying to process what it all meant. “He’s letting me leave?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Sam looked down at his feet, his arms crossed as if to shield himself from the gravity of the situation. “He said he won’t make you stay if you don’t want to,” Sam replied, his tone heavy with unspoken emotion.

“He was pretty messed up after what happened. I have not seen him since.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away, not wanting Sam to see. “I guess that’s that, then,” I said, trying to sound resolute, but my voice betrayed me.

Part of me was relieved to be free, while another part of me did not understand why he was making me leave.

Sam nodded and began to pack my things while I sat silently, tears quietly streaming down my face. Relief and heartbreak warred within me, each emotion as strong as the other. Part of me was glad it was over, but the other part…the other part felt like something inside me had shattered beyond repair. I had tried so hard to steel my resolve and escape him, only to fall in love with him during the process.

As Sam helped me navigate the hotel, every step felt heavier than the last. We walked through the garden, down the corridor, and toward the back road intended for departures. But as we approached the main lobby entrance, I stopped dead in my tracks. It felt like I had seen a ghost.

The reality of leaving, of never seeing him again, hit me with a force I wasn’t prepared for. I stood there, frozen, my heart breaking all over again as I realized what I was leaving behind, and yet…what choice did I have?

I took three steps back, my eyes widening as I turned to Sam, my heart pounding in my chest. My gaze locked onto a large painting of Arik hanging in the corridor, his expression regal, almost otherworldly.

“Sam, what is this?” I asked, my voice trembling as I pointed to the portrait, unable to reconcile the man I had known with the image before me.

Sam chuckled softly, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Ah, I see he did not tell you everything.”

“Wait.” I pulled my attention away, my eyes drawn to a plaque beneath the painting. The centuries-old golden inscription was worn, but I could make out enough to feel the ground beneath me shift. “What does this say?” I asked, my voice barely audible as I looked at Sam, the weight of history pressing down on me.

His smile faded as he glanced at the plaque, a hint of reverence in his voice. “Well, Arik’s family used to rule this region. Arik was…kind of a king after his father died.”

He paused, watching my reaction carefully. “Italy has not had royalty in a very long time, but technically, he still is. More of a governor or something like that. Who knows? The people around here still see him that way. Especially considering all that has been done for them. It is more honorary at this point.”

I stared at him, trying to process the implications of what he was saying. “Are you telling me everyone here knows about him?” My voice quivered with the enormity of it all.

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “God, no. People speculate, sure. It is unusual. Most of the older folks hush the younger ones, telling them to be appreciative of what they have and not to gossip about him.”

He sighed, the weight of centuries of secrecy evident in his tone. “Arik just re-emerges as the next in line every thirty years or so. He ‘dies,’ the people mourn, and then he assumes his post again. It is worked for hundreds of years, from what I have been told.”

I felt numb as Sam continued, his words blurring together as I stared at the painting in disbelief. Everything felt surreal, like I had stepped into a world where nothing made sense. Arik, the man who had held me in his arms, who had turned into something terrifying before my very eyes, was some kind of eternal ruler of a land I had only just begun to understand.

What in the fuck.

Sam gently nudged me toward the door, and I followed, my mind still reeling from everything I had learned. As we walked through the hotel, every step felt like it was taking me further away from the reality I thought I knew. The garden, the corridor, the lobby—each space felt more distant, more foreign, as if I were leaving behind a part of myself.

We reached the back road where the SUV awaited, and I turned for one last look at the hotel and winery, trying to etch every detail into my memory.

This place, this strange, beautiful, terrifying place, would forever be a part of me.

The flight back to New York was a blur. My first time in first class, and I spent it crying in the dark cabin, staring out the window at the world passing me by, and disassociating.

As the plane began its descent into JFK, I stared out the window at the glittering skyline, the city welcoming me back with its familiar embrace. The buildings shone like diamonds, a stark contrast to the ancient world I had just left behind. Yet, despite the city’s allure, I felt a deep emptiness inside, a hollowness that no amount of lights or noise could fill.

As the wheels touched down on the runway, I closed my eyes, willing myself to forget the memories that threatened to overwhelm me. But the images came unbidden—the deep, haunting pools of Arik’s brown eyes, the electric thrill of his touch, the terror of that night.

I carried those thoughts with me as I exited the plane, walked through the bustling airport, and slid into the back seat of an awaiting taxi as the driver loaded my bags into the trunk.

Upon entering, the driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his curiosity evident.

“Where to, Miss?” he asked, his voice pulling me back to the present.