A mixture of emotions bubbled to the surface in a jumbled mess long before consciousness ultimately reached the heiress, as if some twisted form of greeting to remind her of her deed. 'Welcome back to the waking world! You're a murderer.'
What has always frightened her most was not that she took a life, but rather by how easy it felt to take it. As though that life meant absolutely nothing. Not to her, that is a given, but he was no doubt a son to a mother; a friend; and for a moment, a husband. There was the expected feelings of anxiety of course, of fear and confusion. Then, there was also the unexpected ones, feelings of glee; of triumph;...of bloodlust. A regret, almost, that she didn't make the bastard bleed before she sent him to his maker.
A minuscule movement to her side made Yifei instinctively turn to look, catching sight of the Niccolo Amorelli sleeping most vulnerably, no doubt an unprecedented occurrence. A thought which made her wonder how he could be so calm as to sleep next to her knowing what she had done. She took her time to look at him, stare at him, as her mind recalled their hasty exit a few hours ago.
Signore Amorelli didn't lead her out through the backdoor like she expected, but made sure everyone took note of them leaving the reception together. He made a show of being affectionate outside the main entrance as they waited for the valet to bring around his Lamborghini, cupping her face; running his forefinger down the bridge of her nose; pulling her close to whisper something in her ear. Perhaps their display would be as much talked about as the death of a groom on his wedding day.
Although the ride to his penthouse was surprisingly silent, with Yifei expecting a thousand questions, there was a sense of mutual understanding that both shared. Either to take their time to contemplate recent events, or merely pretend it never happened. Then, almost as soon as they arrived she was sent to his rooms like a naughty child, where she was eventually lulled to sleep by the continued humming of her inner thoughts.
Presently, Yifei shifted her gaze to the blaring red numbers on the digital clock sitting on the nightstand. It read: 03:25AM. A mere four hours ago since the murder of Giovanni DiNardo. His body, whatever Niccolo had done with it, should have been discovered by now.
A momentary glint in her peripheral lured her away from her musings, bringing her eye to eye with a familiar face in the full length mirror attached to the doors leading to Niccolo's walk in closet.
'Now that you've had your pleasant dreams, shall we discuss the fate of the liability that is Niccolo Amorelli?'
Yifei gave no response save for a half-hearted glare before she carefully slipped out of bed and made her way out of the master's bedroom, making as little noise as she possibly could. A feat that almost came naturally to her given her former profession.
Taking no notice of the other's constant grumbling of her complete disregard, the heiress relieved her parched throat with a glass of water. It was only afterwards that she finally acknowledged the matter of her...well, she didn't quite know what he was. Friend, or foe? He helped her, yes, but at what cost?
'Ah, so you do have some self-preservation after all.' unable to hide anything from her, it came as no surprise to Yifei that her thoughts were heard -- and mocked, if her tone was anything to go by.
"I will not hurt him, if that is what you are suggesting." She declared, "I think I've silenced enough people this night."
Although there was no reflection to see, Yifei felt that eyeroll. 'What man would be a willing accomplice to a murder with someone they do not know?' Those words rang with truth and she struggled to find her own to refute it, 'Remember. You are not to leave one witness alive. That has never failed us.'
Whether it was the words itself or their implications, but Yifei heard herself audibly snarling in denial. Her hands frantically reaching for her head, at first to cover her ears to hush the screams from her memories, then to harshly curl her fingers into her hair as though the pain might drive away the images.
As always, neither worked.
'Must be nice for you. To deny. To forget.' she was relentless and without mercy, 'To wash yourself of their blood and to bathe me in it.'
No. No. No! Make it stop! I didn't kill them! You did it! I told you to stop!
'Fine. Then I shall do again what you won't.' these were the last words she heard before a searing pain came upon the forefront of her mind, her eyes shutting tightly as her mouth fell agape in a silent scream.