The vial in my hand felt heavier than glass and liquid–it carried my last shed of hope.
As I walked through the corridor toward Francesco’s chambers, I held it tightly, afraid that if loosened my grip, my resolve would crumble with it. Each step echoed with uncertainty, and every breath I took was laced with fear.
I prayed silently, desperately–that the potion would work
That it would bring him back.
That it would d bring tus back.
I couldn’t bear the thought of Francesco forgetting me.
Our first encounter under the storm, when he towered like a god cloaked in moonlight. The way! That night, I thought I was about to die. Instead, I met him. And life has never been the same since
wy his eve
eyes met mine–curious, wary, and strangely tender.
My first painting I gave him–the portrait of the woman. Anastasia, His late mate. I thought I had overstepped, but instead, he saw me. Saw my heart, my soul, in every brushstroke
And then…our first real conversation. Standing by the blue rose bush in the garden, beneath the soft twilight. The same roses that only bloom for him. We didn’t say much that day, but everything changed after it. Something unseen sparked between us. Fragile, new, and yet undeniable
Now, to imagine him forgetting all of that? Forgetting me!
it was a thought sharp enough to carve wounds in my soul.
Be brave, Ellaine… I whispered to myself, it won’t happen. You’ve got this.
But no amount of inner encouragement could slow the hammering of my heart,
When I arrived, Francesco was seated by the tall, arched window in his chambers. He sat in complete stillness, staring out at the grave of ancient trees that bordered the estate. His posture was tense but regal, like a statue carved from living shadow. The sunlight poured through the panes behind him, casting a golden hue around his figure, but he seemed untouched by it–like the light no longer recognized him.
And when he turned to look at me, my world collapsed.
His eyes, once sp fierce and soulful, held no trace of recognition
No warmth. No spark.
Just confusion and emptiness.
“China…” I breathed, the words falling
My body moved on instinct.
g like ash from my lips.
“Francesco,” I whispered, stepping forward as gently as I could. I didn’t want to startle him.
He blinked but he didn’t smile.
Didn’t stand. Didn’t reach out.
Didn’t say my name.
“Francesco, Itried again. “It’s me. Ellaine”
11:09 Mon 14 Jul 6X90
Chapter 57
He didn’t respond. Only his brows furrowed slightly as if trying to make sense of something just beyond his grasp
“brought something for you,” I said uhly, holding out the small, iridescent val “Please. Drink it.”
He eyed it with suspicion. “Who are you?”
Those words. Who are you?
They hit me like a blade between the ribs.
My heart cracked–shattered into pieces so small I wasn’t sure I could ever put them back Ingether again.
But I didn’t let the pain show on my face.
Instead, I walked slowly to him and knelt before him, holding the vial in both hands,
“I’m someone who loves you,” I said, voice trembling. “Someone who won’t let you go without a fight.”
For a second, just one fleeting second, his eyes flickered. A spark. A shadow of recognition. A flickering candle in a dark, storm–tossed room.
It was enough.
Juncorked the vial, brought it to his Eps.
And he drank.
At first, nothing happened.
He sat still, blinking, confused. Then, all at once–he gasped, clutching his head in agony. His back arched as light burst from the center of his chest like a shockwave. Shadows twisted along the walls, curling ke tendrils of smoke. The room pulsed with energy–chaotic, ancient, wild.
His body trembled, teeth clenched, eyes wide.
And then–he collapsed
“No!” I screamed, lunging forward just in time to catch him before his head hit the floor.
“Francescol
His body felt like lead in my arms. Heavy Lifeless
I pressed my ear to his chest–his heartbeat was there, faint but steady. I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding
He was alive. But unconscious.
I laid him down gently on the cushions and sat beside him, brushing the damp strands of hair from his forehead. My hands shook as I cradled his face, his skin still warm under my touch.
I didn’t know if the potion worked. I didn’t know if he’d ever open his eyes and see me again.
But I would wait.
I would wait!
for him for as long as it book.
An hour passed.
Then two
Knock Knock
Chapter 57
A quiet knock at the door drew my attention.
Beta Alfonso stepped in silently, followed by Monica. Their expressions were grave, their eyes immediately scanning Francesco’s sleeping form
I shook my head quickly. “He’s stillasleep. No change yet
They nodded solemnly. Monica stepped forward and placed a small cup filled with a warm, golden liquid beside me.
“Ginger and wildflower she whispered. “To help your strength”
I give him a sad smile
mile “Thank you
(you,” I mummured, my voice barely above a whisper,
They left without another word.
I stared at the cup for a moment, then took a long sip. The warmth spread through my chest, slightly calming the tremble in my hands.
And then–his fingers twitched.
My eyes widened. I set the cup down quickly and rushed back to his side, grabbing his hand.
“Francesco?” I whispered, afraid to hope. Alraid to breathe.
Slowly, painfully slowly, his eyelids fluttered.
And then-
He opened his eyes.
Those beautiful eyes, filled with storm and fire.
They blinked at me once.
Twice.
And then, “Ellaine?”
He said my name.
My knees gave out beneath me as tears flooded my eyes. I buried my face in his hand and nodded. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
He pushed himself up slowly, his movements sluggish. He cupped my face between his trembling hands, his gaze searching every inch of me as it anchoring himself in reality.
“What… what happened?” he asked, his voice hoarse
“You forgot,” I whispered. “But you came back.”
He didn’t speak. Instead, he pulled me into his arms with such fierce desperation that it stole my breath. I wrapped my arms around him in return, holding him just as tightly, afraid to let go.
Because he was here.
He was himself again.
Because love was stronger than any poison.
And I had almost lost him. Twice.
The sun had begun to set outside the windows, casting the room in a solt orange glow. I helped him sit more comfortably against the pillows as he drank
Chapter 57
water slowly, still disoriented.
“I remember flashes,” he murmured. “Your face. Your voice. The roses. Your painting.”
A tear slipped down my cheek. “That’s more than mough.”
He looked at me again, something fierce and protective burning behind the weariness in his eyes.
“Whoever did this,” he growled, “they will pay!
Inodded, fingers, brushing along the edge of his sleeve. “But for now, you need to rest. You’ve only just returned.”
Francesco’s hand found mine, and he brought it to his chest. “I thought I was drowning in shadows,” he said, his voice a soft rumble. “But even in the dark… I felt you?
His words stole the air from my lungs.
“I’ll always find you,” I whispered. “In every lifetime, in every shadow. I’ll always come back for you.”
His thumb brushed against my knuckles. “And I’ll always wait.”
We sat in silence, not needing to say more.
Outside, the night deepened.
Inside, the bond between us strengthened–reborn through low, memory, and unyielding faith.
Whatever came next, we would face it together.
And no pation, no darkness, no curse would ever be strong enough to erase what we had.
Because Francesco remembered.
Because he came back to me.
let him go
And I would never let him go again.
