EPISODE 3: WAKE UP AND SMELL THE ROSES
I wake up in a small sitting room, laid out on a day bed. Someone to my left fans me, and to my right, towering over me and shielding me from view, is Jasper.
"Ms. Falcone," His voice is hoarse, and as my vision comes back around, I can't help but notice his eyes are wide and filled with worry, "Are you alright?"
I try to sit up but he puts a wide hand on my shoulder, pinning me down without effort.
"Jasper, I'm fine."
"All the same, its best that you stay put until the doctor comes. You hit your head pretty hard."
There's something in his voice that tells me that this isn't up for discussion.
"Fine, I'll stay put. But can I at least have a water?"
Without turning his face from mine, Jasper snaps and one of the many servants that blend into the wallpaper jumps to attention and bolts from the room.
Gently, Jasper puts a hand behind my back and props me up on an embroidered pillow.
"Thank you." I whisper, adjusting my skirts.
He opens his mouth, about to speak, when the door opens, flooding the room with the anxious muttering of a crowd. My father walks in, followed by Cesar who is followed by the young woman carrying a tray of sparkling waters. Jasper moves silently to stand in the shadows.
"We've called for the doctor, and he will be here shortly." My father says. "What happened out there?"
He crosses the room in a few short strides and sits on the edge of the little sofa. He puts the back of his hand to my forehead, as I imagine any normal, loving parent would. Cesar looms behind him, his eyes devoid of all emotion.
"I'm sorry, father." I hesitate, taking a water from the tray. "It's just," I lean in, "could we speak privately? I don't think it would be proper for a lady to speak so freely in front of her suitor." Please say yes, please say yes.
"Everyone-" My father barks, "Get out."
"Yes sir." Cesar's teeth are gritted, but he turns on his heel and leaves without hesitation. Jasper and the servant follow. The door echoes behind them, and I nearly collapse again from sheer relief.
"Now," my father says again, gently, "What happened out there? Are you feeling alright?"
"No, I'm not." I snap, standing abruptly, tossing the unopened water onto the bed. "Can you please explain to me why Cesar is under the impression that I was auctioned off, and that he is overdue to take possession of his, well, his possession?"
The color drains from his cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I think you're lying." My voice is cold and hollow. "And I'd think that a man who makes a living off of extortion and money laundering and God knows what else would be a little bit better at bluffing."
He's on his feet in an instant. "Don't you dare insult me." He whispers menacingly, and I see a flash of the man that the world knows as the Abyss. Cold, dark, and ruthless.
But I am his daughter. And, if anything, my temper burns brighter than his. I play my part well, but like him, I keep my emotions on a tight leash, only allowing my anger and viciousness out when absolutely necessary.
Now is one of those times.
"No! Don't you dare lie to me!" I rush across the room, my skirt balled up in my fist, my heels propping me up so high that I am nose to nose with him. Angry as I may be, I do not want the ears at the door to hear what I am about to say, so my voice comes out in a dramatic whisper. "Have I not done my duty? Have I done everything I've been told to do in order to preserve what is left of this family?
I have attended every meeting in your shadow, forbidden to speak. Though you have made it perfectly clear that I will never lead this family or any other, I have learned every lesson you would have taught a son, all while learning how to be the perfect wife so that I could marry the man you chose for me. A man you said you chose because he would be a perfect match for this family - and the natural choice to absorb our empire."
I am nearly out of breath, and I can feel tears of anger starting to prick at the corners of my eyes. He makes no move to speak. His dark eyes just stare at me, full of sorrow.
"Now, tell me the truth. I have more than earned that much."
"Have I ever told you how much you look like your mother?"
"What?" Now that really knocks the wind out of me. He never speaks about her.
"You look ... exactly like her." His voice cracks a little and I take a step back.
"Father -"
"Do you know how your mother died?" He asks abruptly.
"Yes - of course - she died in childbirth when I was very young." I was too young to actually remember, but that's what I'd always been told.
"No. That's not what happened."













