My heart was still racing from the shock of his grip, adrenaline flooding my system as I faced him.
“You scared me!”
Renzo didn’t react to my outburst.
His gaze flicked briefly past me toward the ward door, sharp and alert.
Down the corridor, I caught sight of two doctors approaching—clipboards in hand, voices lowered in quiet professional conversation.
They were getting closer.
“You would’ve been caught spying,” Renzo murmured, his tone low but firm.
He stepped in, gripping my arm—not roughly, but with enough insistence to guide me.
“Come on.”
Before I could argue, he pulled me away from the curtain, steering me quickly around the corner and out of sight.
The moment we stopped, I yanked my arm free.
“Don’t grab me like that,” I muttered, though I kept my voice down.
My pulse was still erratic, nerves stretched tight from everything I’d just seen.
Renzo didn’t argue.
He simply leaned back against the wall, arms loosely crossed, eyes scanning the corridor for any sign of movement.
Then I spoke.
“Violet doesn’t have heart disease.”
The words came out faster than I expected.
“I just heard her. She was sitting up—no coughing, no weakness. Nothing. She’s been faking it this whole time. Playing the pity card to keep Vincenzo wrapped around her finger.”
Renzo’s expression didn’t shift dramatically, but there was a subtle tightening around his eyes—like something in what I said confirmed a suspicion he’d already been entertaining.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he said quietly.
His tone was measured.
“She lies. A lot.”
A beat.
“But Vincenzo...” His jaw flexed slightly. “He doesn’t want to see it.”
My brows drew together.
“Why? Why is he so blind when it comes to her?”
Renzo didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he glanced down at his watch—quick, almost automatic.
But I caught it.
