He takes in the untouched breakfast tray, the rumpled bed, me standing frozen in the middle of the room with my hair uncombed and still wearing yesterday’s clothes. He looks…concerned?
“Dr. Conti,” he says carefully, and I realize I must look as unhinged as I feel. “How are you doing?”
The laugh that escapes me sounds manic even to my own ears. “How do you think I’m doing, Danny? I’ve been locked in this room for five days. I’m counting ceiling fixtures and wearing paths in the carpet, and I can’t remember what day it is or whether my father is even still alive. How the fuck do you think I’m doing?”
Danny raises an eyebrow, and I can’t bring myself to care. I used to not swear this much, but apparently captivity is eroding more than just my sanity.
His expression softens, and he takes a cautious step closer, like he’s approaching a wounded animal. “The boss noticed you weren’t doing well,” he says gently. “He’s reinstating your garden walks.”
“Reinstating.” The word sounds foreign. “How generous of him to return a privilege he took away as punishment for…what was it again? Looking at photographs in an unlocked room?” I say sarcastically.
Danny holds up his hands. “I’m not here to defend his decisions,” he says quietly. “I’m just here to offer you a way out of this room.”
I stare at him, looking for the trap, the angle, the catch that makes this more cruelty disguised as mercy. But Danny’s expression is genuine, his concern evident.
“Fresh air,” I say flatly. “That’sthe mercy? Supervised walks in a garden surrounded by twenty-foot walls?”
“It’s something,” Danny replies. “More than these four walls.” He pauses, shifting his weight in a way that suggests he’s about to say something he might regret. “And…we get injured birds on the estate sometimes. They fly into the windows. Hawks, sparrows, whatever. They usually just die in the bushes. But if you wanted to treat them, I could arrange for basic supplies.”
I blink at him, not understanding. “Birds?”
Danny looks uncomfortable, blowing out a breath. “You’re a vet. You need something to do besides count ceiling fixtures. The estate has plenty of injured birds that could use help.” His voice is careful. “Seems like a practical use of your skills.”
“Luca approved this?” The question comes out sharp, disbelieving.
“He said to keep you functional,” Danny replies, which isn’t exactly an answer. “Fresh air, purposeful work—that falls under keeping you functional.”
There’s something in the way he says it that makes me think this bird rehabilitation idea might not have come from Luca at all. Somehow I think Danny might be stretching a vague instruction into something more humane than his boss intended.
But I’m too desperate to question it too closely.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask instead.Shut up, Gigi!“Why help me?”
Danny’s throat bobs. “Because someone should,” he finally says in a low voice. “And because well, watching you count ceiling fixtures until you lose your mind doesn’t sit right with me, orders or no orders.” He looks up, discomfort radiating off him in waves.
The admission that he’s going against what he thinks Luca wants, even in this small way makes me want to cry.
“Thank you,” I whisper, tears pooling in my eyes.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Danny says, but his voice is kind. “Just take the offer, Dr. Conti. Get some air. Find something to focus on besides these four walls. That’s all I’m asking.”
I should refuse and tell Danny I don’t need scraps of unauthorized kindness. I should maintain my dignity and my defiance.
But I’m so tired. So broken. And the thought of leaving this room, of having something to do besides count and pace and spiral—it’s more tempting than I want to admit.
“Okay,” I manage to say. “Okay. Yes.”
I’m in the garden for the first time in five days, and it feels like coming up for air after nearly drowning.
The October afternoon is cool and overcast, threatening rain but holding off for now.
The gardens stretched out before me, meticulously designed with geometric symmetry.
The hedges are trimmed to perfection, with imported stone paths winding neatly through flower beds curated with deliberate elegance.
Even nature here is controlled, dominated, forced into submission.
Just like me.
