Capone carried Sophia back to the villa on the island, instructing everyone to stay outside the room. Along the way, he wrapped her in his coat. Her clothes were in tatters, and he didn't want anyone to see even a glimpse of her exposed skin.
The moment Sophia's body touched the bed, she regained consciousness but kept her eyes shut. She didn't dare open them, unsure of who she might see or what terrifying situation she would face next.
But soon, she felt a pair of hands crawling over her body—strong, masculine hands pulling at the tattered remains of her dress. The feeling of being violated clung to her like a shadow, impossible to shake off.
She screamed, swatting away the hands, and abruptly sat up, causing a sharp pain to shoot through her dislocated shoulder, making her eyes well up with tears.
Capone was sitting at the edge of the bed, his brow furrowed as he watched her.
"Get away!" she shouted coldly and defensively.
"Now that you're awake, change your clothes and let the doctor check if you're hurt anywhere," Capone's voice was unusually gentle. He had already noticed the wounds on her fingers, the bump on her forehead from hitting the piano stand, and her dislocated arm. He wasn't sure if there were other injuries.
But Sophia wouldn't let him come near her at all. Every move he made, even just extending a hand toward her, morphed into a monstrous threat in her mind, something dark and destructive coming to tear her apart.
She screamed and resisted, her reaction even more intense than when he first took her. Capone couldn't calm her down and had no choice but to pull her tightly into his arms. He knew she was terrified.
However, Sophia managed to free one hand and slapped him hard across the face.
They both froze for a moment, and the air around them fell into a deathly silence.
Capone grabbed her wrist, and it seemed like with just a bit more pressure, he could easily crush her bones. Yet in his palm, she trembled uncontrollably, her small face hidden behind disheveled hair, pale and expressionless. Her vacant eyes left him fearing that at any moment, she might completely fall apart.
"Then dress yourself, I'll call Diana in to help you!"
Capone couldn't say more, afraid of further agitating her. But before he could reach the door, he heard her break into sobs behind him.
His heart sank into the depths of the sea along with her tears.
By nightfall, the waves were large, and the temperature had dropped to less than half of what it was during the day. Capone leaned on the second-floor balcony, finishing a cigarette before heading downstairs and pushing open the door to Sophia's room. Seeing that she had finally fallen into a peaceful sleep, he gestured for Diana, who was standing nearby, to come out.
"How is she?" he asked.
"Cronus gave her a sedative, and the dislocated arm has been set back in place. After a good night's sleep, she should be fine. But when she wakes… she'll likely be more concerned about the fact that you sent her to ROYAL and had her serve Lucas in the first place. She was crying a lot earlier," Diana sighed softly. She had anticipated such a terrible outcome.
Capone wiped his face. "It was belladonna leaves?"
"Yes, mixed with the tobacco. Once ignited and inhaled, it induces hallucinations, especially in someone like Sophia, who has never been exposed to it before. She's particularly sensitive to it, and her reaction was intense," Diana confirmed.
Capone nodded. The smell he'd noticed when he burst into the hotel room had indeed been belladonna. The Donkin family, for whom Lucas worked, hadn't completely cleaned up their act; illegal business still made up the majority of their dealings. It wasn't surprising to find something like this in their entertainment venues, especially with Lucas controlling the supply.
Capone clenched his fists. Lucas had dared to use this stuff on Sophia!
"I want to go in and see her!"
"Let's wait until tomorrow. If she wakes up and sees you now, she might start crying again."
Sophia's hallucinations hadn't fully dissipated yet. Earlier, when he saw her alone in the room, she had been quietly sobbing, speaking to the empty air, and when she saw any man approaching, she recoiled in fear toward the head of the bed.
Cronus had told her, "Don't be afraid. I'm just going to apply some medicine and give you a shot. You'll be fine after some rest." But she knocked the medicine box out of his hands, and when he turned and left, frustrated, she looked at the empty space beside her and asked, "Why are you so cruel? Why didn't you come save me?"
Capone felt she was likely questioning him.
In her hallucinations, she might have mistaken Lucas for him, or even imagined the entire ordeal as a repeat of the night he had first forced himself on her. She may have also believed that Lucas, or someone else, had already violated her, though in reality, it hadn't reached that point.
But he didn't know how to begin explaining this to her. Every time she saw him, her eyes were filled with hatred and disgust. After all, he was the one who had sent her to ROYAL. He was the one who had driven her to this point.
When she said she hated him—did she mean it from the bottom of her heart?
Sophia sat on the stairs. It had gotten colder, though the house was equipped with underfloor heating. However, cold wind would seep in from the stairs leading from the second floor to the third-floor terrace. She liked sitting in that spot, wrapped in a large, oversized cotton coat that made her look even more petite.
Originally, she wouldn't even leave her room. Lucy and Diana had tried persuading her multiple times before she finally agreed to take a few steps outside. But once she found that spot on the stairs, she refused to move anywhere else. She wouldn't even go out into the garden.
She was afraid—afraid that Capone would drag her into the car again and take her to places like ROYAL.
"How's she doing? Still refusing to eat the spaghetti?"
Capone entered the house without even changing his clothes and headed straight to the kitchen to ask Diana about Sophia's condition today. The plate of spaghetti prepared for Sophia remained almost untouched on the counter. He didn't need to ask to know—once again, she had refused to eat it.
Ever since she returned from ROYAL and regained consciousness, she had been like this. At first, she wouldn't even touch the spaghetti. He had gotten angry and brought the plate to her himself, forcing her to eat. But she simply flipped the entire tray onto the floor. The hot soup had burned the top of her foot, but not a bite of the pasta had made it to her mouth.
Cronus had been there that day too. He came in, picked her up, and was about to leave when Capone blocked his way.
"Where are you taking her?"
"To the hospital! Didn't you see she got burned? I don't want to see my patient with both old and new injuries piling up. After all the effort I've put in, she'll end up dying here!"
Cronus wasn't wrong. Capone had no argument. If he insisted on taking Sophia away, Capone couldn't point a gun at him, because Cronus wasn't Lucas.
Luckily, in that moment of emptiness and stubbornness, Sophia had spoken up, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here! Don't even think about taking me to any other place!"
Her distrust affected everyone in the house, and she no longer wanted to venture anywhere, as it could mean even greater harm. Until she was rescued, she preferred to stay in this villa.
She began to eat very little; her appetite had never been great, and now she was even smaller than a kitten. Her body quickly became much thinner.
He knew that Sophia liked to sit at the corner of the stairs on the third floor these days, but as soon as she heard footsteps from below or realized someone was coming up, she would run back to her room and refuse to open the door.
When Capone approached her, she did not look up, sitting there with her knees hugged. Capone placed the plate on the step below, to avoid her getting upset and knocking it over.
It was hard to tell if her clothes were too big or if she was too thin, but the neckline was very open, and he could see the beautiful curve of her chest.
He took the scarf off his neck and draped it around hers, simply crossing and knotting it. The black cashmere, warmed by his body, covered the exposed gap at her chest.