Chapter 90. 

 Ignazio sat on the chair next to Isabella’s bed, his fingers laced with hers as if letting go would mean losing her forever. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor echoed through the sterile hospital room, but he barely heard it. All he could hear was the agonizing silence—the silence of her unconsciousness, the silence of her absence, the silence of his own torment.  “I am sorry,” he whispered, his voice trembling as a tear slid down his cheek, disappearing into the stubble along his jaw. His grip on her hand tightened, as if he could will his regret into her through touch alone.  He should have been careful. He should have known better. He shouldn’t have hurt her. He shouldn’t have ignored the possibility that she would follow him. But he had, and now the consequences were suffocating him.  If only he had done things differently… If only she hadn’t witnessed his fury toward Anita, hadn’t seen him for the monster he was, hadn’t walked away from him in anger… If only she had stayed ho