Kimberly POV
"You… You killed your own mom?" I asked, taken aback, barely able to get the words out.
I knew he was ruthless, but this… this was beyond anything I'd expected.
His face darkened, eyes narrowing. "Leave."
"I…"
"Get out, Kimberly.!"
Without a second thought, I scrambled out, heart pounding, and left him to his brooding silence. I hurried down the hall, needing air, needing answers, and found myself in the kitchen where Helen was working quietly.
"Helen," I called, my voice coming out as a whisper.
She looked up, a mixture of worry and something I couldn't place etched across her face.
"You've been working here for years, right?" I asked, wanting to be sure she was someone I could trust for the truth.
"Yes, ma'am," she said, nodding slowly.
"Leonardo… did he really kill his own mom?" I kept my voice low, watching her carefully.
Her reaction was immediate; her eyes widened in shock, her brow furrowed deeply. "Who told you such a lie?" she asked, bewildered.
"Leonardo told me himself." I was surprised at her reaction, which seemed to contradict his words entirely.
"That's not true. I don't know why he'd say that, but he never did that," Helen said with a firmness that left no room for doubt.
"But…" I started, but she shook her head.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. That's all I can say." And with that, she turned back to her work, leaving me standing there, transfixed.
A faint click of heels in the hallway made me think for a moment it might be Monica, and despite myself, I moved towards the sound. But when I reached the door, a pair of arms wrapped around me warmly.
It was Emily.
"Heyy!" she greeted, her voice as bright and cheerful as ever.
"Emily," I breathed, her presence easing some of the tension in my chest.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, not even sure how to explain everything.
She shook her head. "No, no, it's alright. I know you meant no harm. Just be more careful next time, please?"
"There won't be a next time," I said, managing a small, grateful smile.
"That's my girl," she replied, giving me a warm, approving smile.
"How have you been?" I asked, the guilt of not reaching out sooner settling in.
"Oh, now you want to know? despite knowing my house address," she pouted, but I could tell she wasn't really mad.
I gave her an apologetic smile. "I just thought maybe you wouldn't want to see me. And, besides, I haven't gotten a new phone yet."
"Why wouldn't I want to see you?" she exclaimed, rolling her eyes in a dramatic way. "Anyways, apology accepted."
"Thank you," I said, feeling genuinely relieved.
We talked a bit, catching up, and then she looked at me seriously.
"You know what today is, right?" she asked, her voice gentler now.
I nodded, sensing the significance without fully understanding it.
"He needs help, Kimberly. He doesn't have anyone else but me, and I can't pull him out of that place alone… But you're his wife." She paused, searching my eyes. "You can help him. Please?"
I hesitated. She knew enough about our marriage to know it was complicated, though she didn't know the full extent of it. But still, she was asking this of me.
"He won't hurt you, Kimberly. I promise."
I swallowed, feeling my throat tighten. "Emily…" Her name slipped from my lips, but all the protests in my mind fell silent.
"Please, for me," she repeated softly.
I kept quiet.
As I walked back down the gym house where I had left Leonardo earlier, I noticed a figure in the garden, I peeped and there he was, tending to the flowers in his own quiet way.
"Heyy!" I called out.
Without turning, he shot back, "Why can't you just let me be? Stop being a leech."!
The words stung, but I brushed them aside.
"Has anyone ever told you you're a terrible gardener?" I teased, hoping he'd take it as a joke.
He was silent for a moment before he replied, "Yeah… my mom."
I blinked, surprised. "Really?"
He chuckled softly, almost to himself. "She never let me near her flowers. Said I was only good for ruining things."
"Maybe that's why these poor flowers look so wild." I tried to keep my tone light, pushing a little further.
He actually laughed, a sound so rare it caught me off guard. "I let you handle them, didn't I? You used the same method she did. That's why I didn't stop you."
My heart gave a small leap. Was that… a compliment?
"Then don't ruin it," I said, reaching over to take the shears from his hand. He let go without a word, sitting down on a stone chair nearby, and I joined him, letting the silence settle between us.
After a moment, he murmured, "She would have liked you."
I spared him a glance. I kept quiet.
"She also doesn't like this type of life, but she loved my dad, and she already had me and Emily." He continued and sighed.
"You both would have been great friends." He added again.
I glanced at him, trying to understand the sadness in his expression. "I wish I had met her."
"If she were still here, we might never have met." His voice was soft, contemplative, and he looked away as if seeing something distant.
As he shifted, I noticed a small leather-bound book peeking from his pocket, its edges slightly scorched. Before I could think better of it, I reached for it, but he caught my hand, his fingers gentle.
The journal was partially burnt along the edges, but the pages remained intact, a testament to its remarkable quality.
"It was hers—my mom's," Leonardo said quietly. "The only thing I managed to save from the explosion."
He glanced at me, and in his gaze, I saw something complex, something that wasn't anger or blame. It held a depth I couldn't quite decipher, but it felt painfully honest.
"I'm sorry," I apologised, and I meant it.
He gave a faint smile, eyes distant. "It's fine. As long as I have this, I still have a part of her."
In that moment, I finally understood why he held onto his anger, his grief. The mansion wasn't just a place...it was his last connection to her, a past that he could never fully recover.
The mansion held moments , moments which I had shattered.
And somehow, in his pain, I felt closer to him than ever before.