Mena
The days after Domenico’s heart attack were somber. Thank God, he survived, but the air in the mansion had never been darker than it had been these days. It was like every bit of joy had been sucked out of its walls.
Domenico had been glued to his bed, with a doctor by his side—but he was doing better. It was crazy to think that one image had pushed him over the edge, leading to a heart attack.
“Why is it taking so long?” Alessio huffed, leaning against the wall as we waited in front of Domenico’s room.
He had specifically asked for both of us, and said it was important. If it was only Alessio, I could understand—but now that I was in it, I began to fear the worst.
It couldn’t be something small.
Maybe he would tell us that the doctor had found something, and he was terminally i
