“Sure,” Bert replied straightforwardly.
I was slightly surprised. His response wasn’t what I had expected.
But upon reflection, I shouldn’t have been.
Before this incident, my only interactions with Bert had been three years ago, through our mutual friend, Sienna.
Perhaps Bert’s willingness to help me was also because of Sienna.
Now that I was awake and my fever had subsided, leaving was a natural request. Bert had no obligation or responsibility to force me to stay.
I was free.
“You’re free, Miss Luciano,” Bert adjusted his glasses, his tone calm. “I have no right to restrict your freedom.”
“Glad you understand that,” I said, taking a bite of my sandwich.
Bert smirked, the lenses of his glasses reflecting light. “After all, my profession is engineering, not kidnapping.”
I choked on my sandwich, having recently “kidnapped” Bert myself.
He seemed to remember something and turned back from the hallway. “This place is quite far from the city, so it’s hard to call a taxi. If you’re not in a hurry, you can wait until I’m done with my appointment.”
“I’ll be back around 4 PM.”
Though I knew I wouldn’t stay in the villa that long, I still gave him an “OK” gesture.
Bert left, and the spacious, comfortable villa was now empty except for me and Mae, who was cleaning upstairs.
Mae soon finished her tasks and came downstairs.
She remembered Bert’s instructions and had already prepared the medication I needed, placing it on the coffee table in the living room.
“I’ll take it later,” I said.
The garden looked inviting, so I decided to take a walk.
“I’ll remind you in 30 minutes,” Mae said.
“No problem,” I replied, changing my shoes at the door and walking along the pebble path to the garden.
Aside from the vast lawn and colorful flowers, the two maple trees opposite the living room window caught my attention.
They stood close together, intertwined, their branches lush and full.
Unfortunately, the leaves weren’t red enough yet.
“Miss Luciano,” Mae called from a distance, reminding me that 30 minutes had passed.
“Alright, I’ll be right back,” I replied, turning to head back.
A sudden chill ran down my spine, making me pause. Goosebumps covered my arms.
Instinctively, I reached for my gun, only to remember it was gone.
Damn it, I’d forgotten again-my gun was lost.
But I had no choice but to turn around, my vigilant gaze sweeping over the hedge.
Several black-suited bodyguards were hidden in the greenery across from the villa, using thick tree trunks as cover.
Only one was exposed, clearly positioned for me to spot him quickly.
It was Hunter!
Marcy, the bodyguard captain Antonio had assigned me, had been seriously injured in New York and could no longer fulfill her duty. Hunter was sent by my grandmother to replace her.
Though I’d never acknowledged Hunter as my bodyguard captain, he still had the responsibility of protecting and monitoring me.
Hunter was silently urging me to leave. He didn’t consider Bert’s home a safe place.
I didn’t want to argue with him on this matter, but leaving was indeed our shared goal.
“Give me five minutes,” I said.
Hunter had no right to object. He could only watch as I returned to the villa.
“Mae, do you have Mr. Falcone’s contact information?”
After taking my medication, I asked Mae, who was working in the kitchen.
“Do you need his email address or phone number?” Mae wiped her hands and reached for her phone.
“Email address,” I said. I remembered Bert had an appointment at noon, and I didn’t want to disturb him if his phone wasn’t on silent.
“Could you send him an email for me? Let him know I’ve left and thank him for his care over the past few days.”
Hearing that I was leaving, Mae hesitated. “Now?”
“Yes. My bodyguards are here. They’re outside.”
Mae glanced out the window.
She saw Hunter.
I could clearly see fear in her eyes.
Hunter’s intimidating appearance must have scared her.
I patted Mae’s shoulder, trying to reassure her.
“Please take care of the email for me.”
I left Bert’s villa, stepping from the sunlight into the cold shadows, where my bodyguards were waiting.
“Any updates on Rosa’s latest movements?” That was my primary concern.
“Rosa has received mysterious help and disappeared,” Hunter said, quickening his pace to open the car door for me. “But we’re certain she hasn’t left Mexico City.”
“Will I be her new target?” I settled into a more comfortable position and extended my injured left hand to the doctor Hunter had hired.
“Rosa’s focus on you has never wavered,” Hunter said sternly. “Please trust my professional judgment and leave Mexico City as soon as possible. Return to the U. S.”
I didn’t immediately take his advice. “My race is still ongoing.”
“Bianca!” Hunter snapped. “That’s just an ordinary motorcycle race! It won’t give you any advantage in your war with Antonio! But your recklessness and stubbornness could be the bullets that kill you!”
“I’ve warned you, Hunter. Don’t try to lecture me! Stop speaking to me like a parent!” I glared at him coldly. “Until you abandon your so-called sense of duty and prove your loyalty to me, I won’t acknowledge your position.”
Hunter opened his mouth, ready to argue.
But I wouldn’t give him the chance. I was tired of his arrogance.
“Silence, Hunter! That’s the only way you’ll keep your life!”
The car fell into a heavy silence, the air thick as a boulder pressing on everyone’s chest.
No one dared to speak, afraid to break the tense standoff between Hunter and me.
This was a daily performance since Hunter became my bodyguard captain-openly opposing me, trying to control me through words and actions, monitoring my every move. These were the rights my dear grandmother had granted him.
I’d tried to refuse, even to dismiss Hunter, but all attempts had failed.
Of course, Hunter hadn’t achieved the victory he wanted either.
That’s why I was in Mexico City, about to start a motorcycle race that Hunter deemed worthless.
The driver sped along the highway toward the city, overtaking several cars in quick succession.
The doctor was the first to break the silence. He examined the wounds on my abdomen and hand, carefully cleaning them, applying medication, and wrapping them with fresh bandages.
“The doctor who stitched your wounds did an excellent job. The signs of infection are also subsiding,” he said, packing up his medical tools. “I’ll prescribe some oral and topical medications. Your wounds will heal soon.”
The doctor had overheard my conversation with Hunter. He knew my stubbornness, but out of professional duty, he couldn’t help but advise, “I suggest avoiding strenuous activities until your wounds heal.”