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prayers that didn t keep him alive. That s when I realized hospitals were places of death. You went
there to visit your loved ones before they were taken from you forever, reminding you that life could
be lost in the blink of an eye.
I had managed to avoid entering hospitals ever since my father passed away, but even years
couldn t wipe away the memories of powerless dread, of endless prayers that would go unheard.
This is it. Clarkson pointed at a closed door. I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart and
wiped my hands on the soft material of my knee-length skirt. What would I say to this stranger who
had never met me and yet had decided to leave his estate to me? Saying thank you felt wrong
because, even though I was thankful, I didn t want him to think that inheriting what belonged to him
was all that mattered to me.
Mr. Lucazzone wishes to speak with Brooke alone, Clarkson said to Sylvie.
You still have time to run, she whispered to me, ignoring the lawyer. I smiled at her weak
attempt at infusing some humor to ease my nerves.
Ready? Clarkson nodded encouragingly and knocked twice, then opened the door, stepping
aside. Moistening my parched lips, I walked into the room, leaving Sylvie outside.
Chapter 6
THE OLD MAN was sitting in a wheelchair near the high bay window overlooking the gardens,
his head resting on a pillow, his veined hands, the color of parchment, were sitting atop a blanket. In
the bright afternoon sun, the whiteness of his bones shimmered beneath the thin skin, building a strong
contrast to the purplish hue of his lips. To his right stood a middle-aged woman in a pale green
uniform, her black hair with silver-gray streaks was tied at the nape of her neck. A nurse, I thought,
and yet her glance seemed far too protective hostile, even. I knew instantly we wouldn t be friends.
As the door clicked shut behind us, the old man moved his head, his light blue eyes as sharp as
ice. I inched closer on shaky feet, stopping a few inches away from him, unsure whether to speak or let
Clarkson take the lead. My tongue flicked nervously over my parched lips, and it wasn t just because
of my paranoia of hospitals. It was Alessandro Lucazzone who decided to address me.
Seniorina Stewart. Brooke. Despite his high age, his voice was still clear and strong like that
of a man half his age and out of sorts with his aged body. He eyed me carefully and a genuine smile
lit up his face, erasing my unease at meeting him.
How are you, sir? Bending down to him, I grabbed his outstretched fingers and let him kiss
my hand. His grip felt cold and dry, but not unpleasant.
My niece so beautiful. Already I feel better, he said in heavily accented English, releasing
my hand. I smiled shyly. Even though his words were sparse, his tone was warm and welcoming. Not
strange just friendly, making me feel as though I was family. A feeling I hadn t felt since Jenna and
my father died. The sparkle of pride in his eyes conveyed just how much he meant his words.
Alessandro had been gay, marrying my ancestor for money. Or maybe he had loved her, in his own
way. I didn t know and even if I did, it wasn t my place to judge. All that mattered was that my
presence made him feel better, because no one deserved to suffer.
Thank you for inviting me. I glanced from the nurse to Clarkson in the hope someone would
translate. In the end, Alessandro made it clear he understood me perfectly.
Alessia, bring us tea. He waved decisively at the nurse and watched her usher out the door,
then motioned Clarkson to step closer. The lawyer pressed his ear to the old man s mouth but in the
silence of the room I could hear his whisper. Give me a few minutes with her.
Clarkson nodded and peeked over his shoulder at me. I looked away hastily, even though I knew
he had caught me listening.
I ll wait outside, the lawyer said, before shutting the door behind him, leaving Alessandro and
me alone.
Please. The old man s accent was heavy as he patted the chair next to him, offering me a seat.
We don t have much time. Alessia will return shortly and she won t leave us alone again.
I walked around him and sat down, unsure what to say.
You remind me of my dear wife, Maria, Alessandro began. You look just like her. I wish you
had met her. She would have adored you because she always wanted a daughter. His eyes misted
over, reminiscing as he traveled back in time. She was so strong and kind. So beautiful on the inside
and out.
I m sorry for your loss, I whispered past the sudden lump in my throat, but Alessandro didn t
seem to hear me. His eyes filled with moisture.
She died ten years ago, but I remember her like it was yesterday. She loved this estate.
Sometimes that s the only thing I remember, yet I don t tell anyone because if I do, all will be lost.
His gaze focused on me and for a moment his eyes sharpened. You re my only heir, Brooke. You
mustn t sell this estate and never to the wrong people.
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