Chapter 3
1447 Words
This morning was a bit different from the previous ones. Hazel was happy when she woke up this morning. She got up and opened the window.
A gust of cold air entered her soul.
She was happy, perhaps because she had taken the first step towards her revenge, or perhaps because of what had happened between her and Vincenzo.!
She got ready. The breakfast table was set. Sofia had already prepared breakfast for her. Sofia is the only one who raised her. She is drinking juice while asking her questions.
"How was your party?". Hazel spoke while breaking a bite of bread.
"It was good."
She gently asked, "What's wrong, Hazel? You've looked worried for a while."
"Nothing happened, Anny. Well, let it go; I'm getting late; my bus will leave." She hugged her, picked up her bag, and left the home.
When she got on the bus, her phone rang.
Vincenzo calling.
Her heart beats fast. "Does he find out about the pen.?" She answered the call.
"Dr. Hazel, I am unable to come to the clinic today, so could you please come to my house instead?" Hazel breathed a sigh of relief.
"How can I come to your house?"
"Feel free to take more money if you want." Hazel gritted her teeth.
"See Mr.Vincenzo, not everything needs money. I have my own principles." He laughed sarcastically. “At 5 p.m., okay.!”
He hung up the phone. She said angrily, "This is a strange man."
"I don't know when fate started being so kind to me, what I wanted came to me on its own."
She breathed a sigh of relief and went to her clinic.
She was anxiously waiting for 5 o'clock. She finished her work quickly.
At 5 o'clock, Today, the time has come, for which she had been waiting impatiently.
She sat in the taxi and headed towards her destination.
She didn't understand whether she was happy or sad.
She was nervous.
As she walked towards her destination, her breath was heavy.
There was something in the air that was making her uncomfortable.
Then her taxi stopped in front of a luxurious mansion. She got out of the taxi. She took one look at the house, "Moretti's House", she Whispered.
Red roses were blooming in the gardens, I don't know if they are stained red or blood. She entered the house.
The door creaks shut behind Hazel as she steps inside. It’s too quiet.
The air feels heavy — like the house itself is holding its breath.
She looks around. Expensive furniture. Old paintings.
Shadows of a family built on silence and secrets.
Then—
FOOTSTEPS.
MRS. Moretti (Vincenzo’s mother) appears at the top of the stairs. Elegant, cold. Her eyes narrow the moment they meet Hazel’s.
There was something in that girl's eyes that seemed to have penetrated her soul.
She walks down slowly, each step like a warning.
MRS. Moretti
"You shouldn’t be here."
Hazel straightens, trying to look confident, but her heart races.
HAZEL
"Vincenzo invited me."
MRS.Moretti
"Of course he did. He always had a weakness for pretty faces and sad eyes."
Hazel stiffens.
HAZEL
I’m not here to cause trouble.
Mrs. Moretti steps close now — too close. Her voice drops, sharp and low.
MRS. Moretti
"Girls like you come with trouble sewn into your skin."
HAZEL
"Excuse me?"
MRS. Moretti
"Do you think I don’t see it? The questions. The way you look at this house."
(pauses)
"You’re not here for Vincenzo. Not really. You’re digging for something."
Hazel’s mouth opens, but no words come out.
MRS. Moretti
"Let me give you some advice, Hazel."
(leans in)
"Whatever it is you’re looking for — stop. Walk away before someone gets hurt. Before he gets hurt."
She turns and walks off, heels clicking sharply down the marble hall.
Hazel stands frozen, her pulse racing.
Mrs. Moretti's words sting — not because they’re wrong, but because they cut too close to the truth.
And then—
A door opens.
Vincenzo steps in from the side hallway, a jacket in hand. His eyes instantly land on Hazel — tense, eyes wide — then shift to his mother, cold and composed.
He takes one look at the space between them and knows exactly what just happened.
VINCENZO
"Mother...!"
She pauses mid-step, glancing back at him.
VINCENZO
"What did you say to her?"
MRS. Moretti
"I only warned her. This house has seen enough heartbreak already. I won’t let another one in."
VINCENZO
"You don’t get to decide who walks in and who stays. Not anymore.
She raises a brow."
MRS. Moretti
"You’re trusting the wrong people, Vincenzo."
VINCENZO
"Maybe. But I’d rather trust someone who’s honest about being lost… than someone who lies and calls it protection."
That lands hard. The air thickens.
Mrs. Moretti gives Hazel one last icy glance — then turns and walks away without another word.
Silence.
Vincenzo turns to Hazel, his expression softening.
VINCENZO
"Did she scare you?"
Hazel manages a shaky smile.
HAZEL
"A little. But I’ve had worse."
He steps closer, gently brushing a lock of hair from her face.
VINCENZO
"You don’t have to prove anything to her. Or anyone. You’re here with me. That’s all that matters."
Hazel swallows hard, guilt twisting in her stomach.
He’s protecting her.
And she’s still hiding the reason she came.
HAZEL
(quietly)
"You don’t know how much that means."
She wants to tell him.
The words press against her throat… but they don’t come out. Not yet.
Because once she tells him, she might lose everything.
The heavy door closes with a soft click.
The room is warm, quiet — lined with tall shelves full of old books, their spines worn and faded. A fireplace flickers gently in the corner, casting golden light across the dark wood and thick rugs.
Hazel follows Vincenzo inside, her arms crossed lightly, more out of nerves than cold.
VINCENZO
(half-smiling)
"This is where I hide when the rest of the house feels like a prison."
HAZEL
"It feels like a memory."
(pauses)
A beautiful one. With shadows.
He chuckles softly and sits on the old leather couch near the fire. He looks tired. Not just physically — there’s something deeper.
A kind of ache behind his eyes.
Hazel walks over and sits beside him, close but not too close. Her hand brushes his arm.
HAZEL
"You okay?"
VINCENZO
(sighs)
"My mother has a way of poisoning the air. Always has."
(looks at her)
"But I meant what I said. I want you here."
HAZEL
"Then let me help."
He tilts his head, surprised.
HAZEL
"You’re tense. All of you."
(teasing)
"You need therapy, Mr. Vincenzo."
He laughs, the sound low and warm.
VINCENZO
Oh? Are you a doctor now?
HAZEL
"Of course I am. But I’m very good with my hands."
She shifts behind him, her fingers resting on his shoulders.
Slowly, gently, she starts to massage — light at first, then deeper as she feels the tension in his muscles.
His breath catches slightly.
VINCENZO
"God… that feels incredible."
HAZEL
"You carry so much. Right here."
(she presses gently between his shoulder blades)
VINCENZO
" It’s the weight of everything I can’t say."
He leans back a little into her touch.
Their closeness is magnetic now — her breath against his neck, her fingertips soft but certain.
HAZEL
"Then don’t say anything."
She leans in, her lips brushing the skin behind his ear, slow and warm. He turns slightly, meeting her gaze.
There’s no music. No noise. Just the crackling fire. Their eyes lock, and everything slows again — like that night in the club.
VINCENZO
"Hazel…"
HAZEL
Shh. Just feel this.
Their lips meet — tender, aching, deep.
It’s not rushed. It’s not wild.
It’s intimate — the kind of kiss that feels like safety and danger at once.
His hands move to her waist, pulling her gently into his lap.
She straddles him, arms around his neck, kissing him like the world has narrowed to this one breath, this one heartbeat.
And for a moment, everything else disappears — the lies, the past, the secrets.
Just the firelight, her fingers in his hair, and the feeling of being wanted — truly, deeply, maybe even loved.
For a moment, it feels like the world is soft — like love might be enough to drown out the past.
Hazel glances toward the bookshelf…
and notices one book slightly pulled out — the one that hides the camera her best friend Sabrina Leon placed days ago.
And in that instant, the warmth between them turns to ice — because she remembers what the camera might have seen.
- Writer
