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I returned to my armchair feeling miserable. I must have drifted off then, because I woke in the early hours of the morning, faint dawn light coming in through my window, and the house silent all around me.
I sensed, rather than knew, that Marco and Vittoria had not returned. And now I was worried about Chiara, because I hadn’t heard her come home either.
I pounded on my door some more, but if anyone from the security team heard it, they did not reply. I didn’t bother to knock on the adjoining door to Marco’s room. If he had been here, I knew that security would not be ignoring me.
It me feel sick to know that my only value in this house was the value that he gave me. Why had I not seen that before?
Sometime later, I heard Amara chatting to her nanny as they went downstairs for breakfast. This time I did not bang on my door. I did not want little Amara knowing that they had locked me in like some criminal. Let her go off to her Sunday swim class feeling safe.
My stomach was grumbling, and I was wishing I could have joined them for breakfast when the sound of the front door opening at last made me leap off my chair and race to my own door.
I was going to bang on it and demand to be let out when I forced my fist to stop. No way was I going to let Vittoria have the satisfaction of knowing I had been locked in here all night like some criminal.
I heard Amara’s cries of surprise to see her nonna and uncle coming in from outside. She demanded to know where they had been. I heard them give quiet replies.
And then feet treading lightly on the stairs. Marco’s gait.
Before he could pass my room, I rapped on the door hard. Just once. I heard him come to an abrupt halt. And then the key turning in my lock.
I did not open the door. I was that tired, and that angry by now. He swung it open. On the other side, he looked confused. “Who locked you in?”
“Your security people,” I bit out, my voice shaking slightly.
He looked surprised, and then seeing my mood, enfolded me in his arms. Kissed my forehead. Promised me he would have a word with them.
“You didn’t tell them to lock me in?” I demanded.
“Of course not!” He sounded slightly affronted.
I pulled away from his embrace. “What the hell happened last night?” And then, “Never mind that, actually. I didn’t hear Chiara come home. And my phone is still in your room so I couldn’t let you know. I’m worried. It’s not like her to stay out all night!”
A tender look came onto his face. He hugged me again, despite my resistance.
“I’m sorry, amore. I should have made time to tell you. I didn’t mean for you to panic. I was… Pretty panicked myself when I rushed out.”
“What happened?” I asked, seeing now the tiredness on his face, the shadows beneath his eyes.
He shook his head, spread his hands wide in a gesture of utter confusion. “Chiara took an overdose. She’s been in the hospital all night.”
My eyes widened. “No! Is she all right?”
He shook his head, but said, “We hope so. They pumped her stomach. She is past the worst of it now. Otherwise, I could never have persuaded Mom to come home and get some rest.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose to stop the tears welling in my eyes. “Poor Chiara. I never thought she seemed the type… No, that’s a silly thing to say. Did you know that she was into drugs?”
I felt guilty. Maybe I should have been looking closer. Maybe I should have seen something.
“She’s not. She told us she’d never taken them before. Nothing serious, anyway. Just some weed. But last night she got blackout drunk and took some pills her friends were passing around. She doesn’t even know what they were.”
He looked furious. At his sister, but also at himself. “I should have seen it.”
I hugged him. “You can’t blame yourself. How could you possibly know?”
He rubbed his face. “I need to shower. I need to find out who the hell gave those pills to her!”
The grim expression on his face frightened me. I took hold of his hands, squeezed them. “Marco, they are just kids. They can’t have done this on purpose. And they are her friends. They are probably as upset as you are.”
“The hell they are,” he growled.
