I always will.
I told myself I wouldn't cry, but I can't help it. I cry the entire way to Rome. My eyes are red and puffy by the time we reach the city.
I open the piece of paper with the address. It's afternoon now, so I have a few more hours before I have to face my mother.
I stop at a restaurant and ask for a table for one. They seat me near the window.
I order something to eat, but I don’t touch it. Instead, I watch the people passing by. I watch everyone else go about their day.
If this is going to be the end, I decide that I've lived a good life.
The little time I had with Dante is enough for a lifetime. And if there's a life after this one, I hope I find him again. I hope we meet. And I hope that all the circumstances will be just right. We'll do things the right way. We'll put our hearts on the line, and it will be worth it.
I wrote letters to my sisters before I left. I thanked them for everything they did for me. They protected me viciously, even when it meant that my mother would hurt them for it. They were always there for me when I needed a shoulder to lean on. The two of them were the brightest parts of my childhood.
More tears roll down my cheeks.
I wipe them away. I remind myself that I'm doing this for love.
I stay in the restaurant for as long as I can. But when the sky turns darker, I know it's time.
I walk to the address. My mother is staying at a gorgeous hotel.
I approach the front desk.
"Buonasera, I'm here for Malorie Thorne," I say.
"You must be Grace.” The receptionist beams at me. "Please follow me."
I'm escorted to the private elevator. I thought I would be afraid, but a familiar rage takes over me. It's the same rage I started feeling when my mother medicated Briar into a coma. It's the same rage that gave me the courage to run away.
The elevator doors open on the top floor.
"The suite is at the end of the hallway," the receptionist says.
"Thank you," I say, stepping off the elevator.
I take a deep breath as I look at the door at the end of the hallway. Paintings adorn the walls. Two security cameras on either side of the corridor watch me. I wonder if my mother knows I'm here.
I feel like a zombie as I walk toward that door. I feel as if my legs aren't my own. My body isn't mine.
I knock on the door.
It opens. I have to fight to swallow the scream that bubbles to life inside me.
A man stands before me. He has purple irises and pale white skin. He’s so close that I can see the white eyelashes that frame his eyes. I’ve heard of this man.
He’s been working with my mother.
“Hello, Grace,” he says. “I heard so much about you. Nothing good, though."
A sweet voice rings out from inside the suite. “Is my daughter here?”
The blood in my veins turns to ice. The shards cut through my veins, making me bleed from the inside out.
My mother is the only person who can inspire this kind of terror inside me.
"Yes," the man says, looking me up and down. "She's here."
