SEVENTY-EIGHT.

One Week Later.

Time seems to have slowed down in the last eight days. True to his word, Alessandro has forbidden me to enter through the villa’s iron gates, refusing to let me see Savannah.

He ignores my calls, refuses to see me face to face or acknowledge my existence when he's driven past me standing outside the villa, deep in conversation with his henchmen.

It hurts.

I didn’t think it would hurt like this to go from sleeping in his bed to him acting like I don't exist.

And it doesn't help that the memory of our last kiss haunts me through the night, leaving me breathless when I wake up in a pool of sweat and shivering limbs.

---

“Miss Bishop, these are the documents for your father's discharge records, his medication, and his timetable for when he will need to return for checkups or physiotherapy .”

I'm pulled out of my current state of self-pity when a nurse enters my father's room, blubbering away.

I turn away from the window, meeting her gaze, “thank you.” I say politely