Two days had passed after the wedding, Evelina sat on her ornate chaise lounge, fingers nervously tapping the armrest. The soft knock on the door made her look up. Her maid, entered the room with a hesitant expression.
"Mrs Evelina," she began, voice careful, "Young master Leone has returned."
Evelina's heart jumped, but the joy was short-lived, quickly replaced by anger. Two days without a word. No explanation. No regard for his wife.
'Finally,' Evelina thought bitterly, her hands clenching the silk of her gown. 'He needs to hear a piece of my mind! How dare he not come to see his own wife?!'
She straightened. "Can I go see him now?"
The maid hesitated. "I apologize, not right now. He's meeting with the Madam and the Master."
"Ah, I see," Evelina muttered, biting back her frustration. First his parents, then his wife? Well, I guess I will have to wait. She stood and crossed to the window, her mind racing.
---
Meanwhile, Leone was seated in his father's study, his jaw tight as Camille paced the room, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. The air was thick with tension, and the fireplace cast flickering shadows across their faces.
"I can't believe your behavior, Leone!" Camille's voice cracked with frustration, her tone cutting through the silence like a blade. "You didn't even come home after the wedding. Do you understand the humiliation I've endured, answering endless questions? And your wife—your wife has been left completely alone!"
Leone sat stiffly in his chair, avoiding her piercing gaze. His fists clenched against his thighs as he thought bitterly, All this scolding as soon as I come back? Is this woman after my life?
"I needed time," he muttered, his voice low and dismissive.
"Time?" Camille's voice rose, her incredulity sharp and unforgiving. "You are married, Leone! She is your responsibility now! Do you think you can just disappear when things get difficult?"
"That's enough, Camille," Ambrose interrupted, his deep voice cutting through the argument. He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes fixed on his son.
But Camille wasn't ready to let it go. "No, it's not enough!" she snapped, glaring at her husband before turning back to Leone. "Do you think you can keep running from your obligations? You're not a child anymore!"
Leone's jaw tightened further, his breathing quickening. The walls of the study seemed to close in on him. His voice came out in a low growl, trembling with suppressed anger. "I didn't ask for this," he said, his voice rising. "You imposed this on me!"
He shot to his feet so abruptly that the chair crashed to the floor behind him. "I didn't ask for any of this!" he shouted, his words raw and venomous.
"Leone—" Camille stepped toward him cautiously, her voice softening, but the look in his eyes froze her in place.
Leone's chest heaved as his hands flew to his temples, gripping his head like he was trying to keep it from splitting apart. Then, without warning, he turned to the wall and slammed his head into it with a sickening thud.
"I told you I didn't want this! I told you!" he roared, his voice breaking.
"Leone, stop!" Camille screamed, rushing forward. But when she reached for him, he shoved her back with more force than he realized. She stumbled, her cry of surprise muffled as Ambrose caught her just in time.
Ambrose acted swiftly, grabbing Leone's arms as he reared back for another strike against the wall. Blood streamed down his forehead, staining his pale skin.
"Leone, enough!" Ambrose bellowed, his voice trembling with exertion. He wrestled his son back as Leone thrashed wildly.
"It was my choice to make! Mine!" Leone's voice cracked, his struggles growing weaker until he finally collapsed, unconscious, into his father's arms.
The room fell silent, save for Camille's ragged sobs. She knelt beside them, her hands trembling as she reached for Leone's bloodied face.
"I thought…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I thought it was over. A whole year without this. I thought he was finally okay." Tears streamed down her cheeks as she buried her face in her hands. "I ignored it… ignored how weak he's always been—physically, mentally. It's been like this since he was born…"
Ambrose placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, his own expression grim and pained. Together, they watched as the servants carefully carried Leone's limp body out of the study.
Ambrose's voice was a low murmur, almost to himself. "I told you to let him be. You shouldn't have yelled at him like that."
Camille's lips trembled as she lowered her gaze. "I know… you're right. I'm sorry." She nodded weakly, though the anguish in her eyes betrayed her fear that the answers they sought might be more than she could bear.
---
When Leone woke, his head throbbed, and the brightness of the room made him squint in discomfort. He blinked slowly, trying to sit up, but a sharp pain in his forehead forced him back onto the pillows.
"Don't move too quickly, Mr. Leone," his personal doctor, Dr. Arnold, said from a chair nearby. His voice was calm yet carried an undercurrent of concern.
Leone frowned, his hand brushing against the bandage wrapped around his head. "Dr. Arnold… what happened?"
Arnold stood, stepping closer to examine him. "You had an episode," he said gently. "The stress of the past few days must have triggered it. But there's no need to dwell on it now. Sometimes, it's ourselves that hold us back. Please, try to—"
"Shut up and get out," Leone interrupted sharply, his voice cold and cutting.
Arnold's jaw tightened, but he nodded, stepping back. Just as he turned to leave, Leone's voice stopped him.
"And one more thing," Leone said, his tone heavy with command. "Keep my condition a secret from everyone. No one else should know about this—understood?"
Arnold hesitated, his brows furrowing. "But why, sir? Wouldn't it—"
"Understood?!" Leone's voice snapped like a whip, his gaze piercing and unyielding.
Arnold stiffened, then gave a reluctant nod. "Yes, sir," he said quietly before leaving the room without another word.
Leone watched him go, his mind a tangled storm of confusion and anger. What had he done this time? The question echoed in his head, gnawing at him.
All he could remember was the suffocating heaviness in his chest, the relentless weight of expectations, and the hollow ache that never seemed to fade.