47

[REBECCA]
I averted my gaze from the tub as I switched off the light and left the bathroom. It was impeccably clean, but I didn’t want the flood of memories to resurface.
Finding my way to the bed, I settled on the edge and sank into its comforting embrace. The sun was descending, casting a warm, orange glow that enveloped the room, infusing it with a serene ambiance.
Even though I had spent most of the day slumbering, weariness still clung to me. Lynda had brought me breakfast earlier, followed by Nona’s arrival. The sorrow etched on her face shattered my heart. She scolded me, tears streaming down both our faces. We wept together.
Afterward, she gently guided me down onto the bed, her melodic voice soothing my troubled mind. Her tender hands caressed my hair as I surrendered to sleep, a faint smile gracing my lips.
Perhaps Artemy was right. Perhaps I was truly loved. I yearned to believe it with every fiber of my being.
A knock on the door jolted me out of my reverie. “Yes?” I called out, glancing toward the entrance.
The door creaked open, and my eyes widened in astonishment as Avim stepped into the room.
“How are you feeling?” he inquired, his tone as impassive as ever.
“Okay…” I replied, puzzled by his unexpected presence.
“Are you sure?” His head tilted slightly, a questioning gaze fixed upon me. I placed my hands on the bed, absentmindedly tracing patterns on its surface. The room seemed to shrink in his presence, and his intense, dark stare sent a shiver down my spine.
“I… I’m feeling better,” I corrected myself. He nodded, his unwavering gaze never leaving me. Avim appeared lost in thought for a moment before striding forward and coming to a halt in front of me.
As my nervousness intensified, beads of sweat trickled down my back. Why was he here? Did he come to taunt me? The mere thought made me recoil.
We stood in silence, locked in a silent exchange, until he made a move. With his eyes still fixed on mine, he removed his suit jacket and draped it over a nearby chair. My eyes widened as I watched him begin to unbutton his crisp white dress shirt.
“What… what are you…” I stuttered, my voice faltering.
“Do you know how I got this scar?” he interrupted, raising a hand to point at his face. I tore my gaze away from his exposed chest and met his eyes. They appeared vacant, but his lips had tightened into a stern line.
Most of the time, I never really noticed the scar on his face. Perhaps it was because I always averted my gaze from his cold, angry expression. However, when he suddenly drew attention to his scar by pointing at it, my eyes were fixed upon it. The scar stretched from his right eyebrow down to his chin, a deep, puckered slash.
The pain he must have endured crossed my mind, and I winced at the thought. Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder how he had acquired such a prominent scar.
As I shook my head in response to his question, he nodded and turned away from me, facing the opposite wall. In an instant, he unbuttoned his shirt, swiftly removing it.
Raising my hand to my mouth, I couldn’t contain my gasp as I beheld the sight before me.
“Oh my God,” I uttered, my voice barely a whisper.
His back bore the markings of numerous scars, their age evident but their prominence refusing to fade. Some were long and deep, and the sheer agony he must have endured left me speechless.
I observed his back muscles tense as my gasp reached his ears. Slowly, Avim turned back to face me, and I couldn’t help but whimper, tears clouding my vision.
Scars also covered his chest and stomach.
“How?” I managed to croak, my voice trembling.
“Six years ago, the Italians captured me. They held me prisoner for nearly four weeks, subjecting me to incessant torture. They sought information,” he explained.
His words caused my heart to falter, and I struggled to steady my breathing. The Italians? Oh God, not another victim. How many lives had my family destroyed?
“Did you… Did you give in?” I whispered, keeping my gaze fixed on his scarred chest.
In response to his scoff, my eyes shot up to meet his. He regarded me as if I had lost my mind, shaking his head with a sigh. “No, Rebecca. I didn’t reveal anything. I would take a bullet for Artemy. Do you honestly think I would betray him?”
No, I never believed he would betray Artemy. Avim possessed an icy exterior, an air of unfeeling detachment. Yet, during my brief time here, I had witnessed glimpses of his loyalty and protectiveness towards Artemy. When he spoke of taking a bullet for him, there was a hint of pride in his eyes.
“I was barely clinging to life when Artemy and the others found me. Due to severe blood loss, nerve damage, and brain swelling, I slipped into a coma for three weeks,” Avim paused, taking a deep breath. “When I finally regained consciousness, I had to relearn how to walk. And just two days later, I was diagnosed with PTSD.”
His confession shattered my heart, catching me completely off guard. Although his expression remained hardened, I glimpsed a flicker of pain in his eyes. Tears welled up in my own eyes and cascaded down my cheeks. When Avim noticed my tears, his eyes widened, and I could see the strain in his throat as he swallowed hard.
“Nightmares, hallucinations, deep anger, depression, and self-loathing. They became constants in my life,” he continued, averting his gaze from mine.
His pain resonated with me because I knew those feelings all too well.
“I remember holding a gun to my temple, wanting it all to end,” he confessed.
No.
“But Artemy talked me out of it. Brayden. Leon. Milandro. Nona. They were all there. They cared. I’m alive today because of them,” he shared.
As his expression softened, the coldness melting away from his face, I drew in a deep breath.
“You must be wondering why I’m telling you this,” he let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. “I’m telling you because I want you to know that I understand. Whatever you’re going through, I understand. We understand. Nobody is perfect in this mansion. Some of us carry painful pasts, while others have less burdensome ones. But we comprehend. We empathize. And we want to help.”
Avim was not one to speak at length, so his words left me breathless.
Perhaps they would understand, but I couldn’t forget that I was the daughter of their enemy.
If only I were someone else, if I weren’t a Cavalieri, maybe it wouldn’t matter. But would their feelings remain the same if they knew I was Herman’s daughter? An Italian? Part of the very family they despised.
“I don’t know what you’ve been through. But if you’ve made it this far, you’re a fighter. You’re not weak,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.
Slowly, Avim approached, stopping just inches away from me. Our proximity made me swallow nervously, and in my seated position, I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. He stood so tall that my eyes only reached his stomach. Avim loomed above me as I blinked up at him, my eyes filled with tears.
His pitch-black eyes held an intense and piercing gaze, impossible to decipher, shimmering in the sunset’s glow.
I was taken aback as a warm sensation touched my arm, causing my eyes to widen. I glanced down swiftly and saw his hand delicately resting over my bandages. His thumb gently moved back and forth, stirring a mixture of emotions in my stomach.
“You deserve so much more,” he whispered softly.
His words triggered a memory of what Artemy had said to me earlier that morning. His voice echoed in my mind, reminding me, “You are worth more than you think.” Overwhelmed, I brought a trembling hand to my mouth, unable to contain a sob that escaped me.
“You’re a fighter, Rebecca. Keep fighting. Don’t give up now,” he murmured, caressing my arm one last time before pulling away and stepping back.
He walked away silently, leaving me behind to continue crying, my gaze fixated on my bandaged arm. I had never considered myself a fighter. I felt weak, shattered.
But he had called me a fighter, and he was right. I had come this far, enduring years of torment. Why was I surrendering now? I lay down on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as tears streamed down my cheeks.
“You are worth more than you think.”
Artemy’s voice replayed incessantly in my head. I had Lynda, Nona, Artemy… and Avim. They understood me. They didn’t question; they simply accepted. Perhaps I did hold some significance, I contemplated.
I lost track of time, lost in my thoughts, when I heard a knock on the door. Sitting up, I called out, “Come in.”
The door opened, revealing Lynda with a radiant smile on her face. In her hands, she held a vibrant bouquet of pink flowers.
“How are you feeling?” she asked cheerfully.
“Good,” I replied, my gaze fixated on the flowers. They were breathtaking. Pointing towards them, I looked up at Lynda with curiosity, “What are these for?”
Her hazel eyes sparkled as she beamed at me. “They’re for you, silly.”
“For me?” I asked, astounded.
“Uh-huh. They’re pink calla lilies,” she explained, walking over to my nightstand. Lynda replaced the other flowers with these new additions.
“They’re absolutely beautiful.” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from them.
Lynda halted her activity and turned towards me, capturing my attention. Slowly, she uttered, “Artemy got them for you. He said to get well soon.”
Her words sent a jolt through me, straightening my posture. I gazed at her in astonishment, my eyes filled with a barrage of questions. However, her smile and nod reassured me.
Yearning to touch them, I extended my hands and whispered, “Can I hold them?”
Without hesitation, she handed me the flowers. The moment my fingers clasped around the stems, I drew them closer and breathed in the sweet fragrance. It was invigorating, delightfully pleasant.
Yet, it wasn’t just the scent that quickened my heartbeat. No one had ever bestowed flowers upon me before. Not a single person. But Artemy had. He was the first to gift me such exquisitely beautiful flowers.
A flutter of excitement coursed through me, causing a tiny smile to stretch across my lips. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was a smile nonetheless.
“They are so beautiful,” I whispered once more, cradling the bouquet against my chest.
“I know,” Lynda whispered in response.
I lifted my gaze to meet hers, and she smiled, locking eyes with me. “For once, I agree with his choice,” she mumbled something under her breath, incomprehensible to me, but I paid it no mind.
All that mattered to me was the bundle of flowers clasped in my hand. Drawing them near my face once again, I savored their sweet scent.
You are loved. You matter.
Artemy’s voice reverberated in my mind as I closed my eyes.
When he first uttered those words, I despised them. I despised him. They cut deep into my heart, inflicting pain. Yet, in this very moment, those same words brought me tranquility.