Blood and Sorrow

Chapter 6: The Weight of Keys

Sofia

I lower my eyes, fidgeting with my napkin. I feel his gaze weigh on me, assessing, gauging the truthfulness of my words.

"You need rest," he says finally, his voice neutral. "It's probably for the best. These receptions are exhausting. You'll stay here. Marco will watch over you."

"I don't need Marco," I protest weakly. "I'm just going to sleep."

"Marco will stay," he cuts in with a sweetness that brooks no argument. "I don't want you to be alone if you get sicker."

Of course. Even sick, I must be guarded. Imprisoned. I nod, feigning resignation, while a terrible relief washes over me. The first step is taken.

---

The day is a torment. I stay in bed, listening to the sounds of the house preparing for the evening. Lorenzo comes in once, places a cold hand on my forehead.

"You don't have a fever."

"It's... it's neuralgic. It's like that."

He nods, his expression inscrutable. He leans down, places a kiss on my forehead.

"Rest. I'll be home early."

When he leaves, finally, as evening falls, the silence that engulfs the house is deafening. I get up, wrapped in a robe. My legs are jelly. Marco is downstairs, in the entrance hall. I hear him turn on the television. The muffled sound of the news reaches me.

My heart is pounding to burst. It's time. The plan is simple, terrifying. Luca's woman is supposed to arrive, posing as an aesthetician sent by my usual spa for an emergency treatment, on "Mr. Rossi's orders" to cheer me up. An incredible audacity. If Marco checks...

I station myself at my bedroom window, watching for car headlights. Minutes are hours. And then, I see it. A small, discreet car. It parks further up the driveway. A woman in a white uniform, with a case, gets out and walks with a determined step towards the front door.

I hear the doorbell. Marco's heavy footsteps. Murmurs. I hold my breath. If he calls Lorenzo... If he has the slightest doubt...

My bedroom door opens. Marco appears, his face impassive.

"An aesthetician, Signora Rossi. Your husband made an appointment for you. It's a thoughtful gesture on his part."

The world tilts. Lorenzo anticipated Luca? Is it a trap? My smile is tight.

"Oh... that's... that's kind. Show her up."

The woman who enters is young, her face serious. She doesn't have the vague look of an aesthetician. Her eyes quickly sweep the room, then settle on me.

"Good evening, Signora Rossi. My name is Elena. I was told you needed to relax."

Marco remains on the threshold, wary.

"I'll leave you to it, Signora. I'll be just downstairs. Call if you need anything."

He closes the door. We're no longer alone, but his shadow is just behind the wood.

The woman, Elena, puts down her case and speaks in a clear, professional voice, for the walls that might have ears.

"Lie down, I'll start with a facial massage. That should help your migraine."

I lie down on the bed, my body stiff as a board. She takes out bottles, clinks instruments. Then, while preparing her products, she leans very close to my ear. Her whisper is barely audible.

"The key is in the blue bottle. Empty it in the sink. Keep it. Copy everything. I'll come back to get it in two hours, under the same pretext."

She straightens up, resuming her normal volume.

"Close your eyes, Signora. Relax."

My trembling fingers grab the small blue bottle. I pretend to cough, move towards the adjoining bathroom. Under the sound of running water, I unscrew the bottle. A small metal cylinder, a tiny USB drive, slides into my palm. I squeeze it so hard the metal digs into my flesh. I empty the product into the sink, the sweet scent filling my nostrils. I put the empty bottle back in the case, the USB drive hidden in the hollow of my hand.

I go back to the bed, the betrayal nestled in my clenched fist. The "treatment" lasts an eternity. Each stroke on my face is a reminder of the ticking clock. Where to hide it? Marco might search the room.

The idea comes, desperate. Under his gaze, I get up to get a glass of water from the nightstand. With a gesture feigning clumsiness, I knock the glass over. Water spills everywhere.

"Oh, I'm so clumsy!"

---