Page 16 of Blood Heir

Fioretta jumped. She did it without hesitation. She wanted to die, or maybe just to escape.

But I’d anticipated it. I always knew there was a chance, and I had people ready to catch her fall. Inflatable mats, safety nets—the best I could get, just in case.

She passed out after she fell. She was unconscious for two weeks, in and out of awareness. The doctors monitored her closely. Her brain scans were fine, but it didn’t matter.

She wasn’t fine.

Now, she’s back, but she’s not the Fioretta I knew.

She’s louder. Happier, even. I can see it in her eyes—this energy that wasn’t there before.

The doctor’s voice echoes in my head: “Sometimes it’s best to make peace with these changes, Serevin. Patients sometimes never return to their original state.”

I clench my jaw.

“She’s different,” I say to the doctor, who looks like he would rather be in a lion’s den than in my office.

He pauses, looking at me with the concern he won’t voice aloud. “How is she different, exactly?”

I take a deep breath. “She’s loud. She’s…happier. I don’t know what’s real anymore. She used to be so quiet. So controlled.”

The doctor adjusts his glasses, letting the silence stretch out. “It’s normal. Sometimes, patients emerge from amnesia with different traits. It’s a way for the mind to cope with trauma.” He clears his throat. “You should be prepared, though. It’s possible she may never get her memories back.”

I lean against the desk, absorbing the weight of his words. The thought that she might never return to who she was—it sinks in deep.

“She might never remember?” I repeat.

The doctor nods. “If she doesn’t, Serevin…it’s important to let her find herself. Gently coax her into remembering. But don’t push too far.”

I nod, though something tightens in my chest. I wonder if she’ll even care to remember me.

She’s different now, and I don’t know how I’ll survive this new Fioretta.

I light a cigarette, inhaling deeply as I stare out the window.

^^^^

The afternoon light cuts through the room, casting long shadows against the dark wood of the office. I’m leaning against the desk, flicking the cigarette between my fingers, the smoke curling toward the ceiling like my thoughts.

The door opens, and Cassian steps in, his face unreadable, a steady presence despite the tension in the air. He moves swiftly, the soft click of the door behind him barely breaking the stillness.

“Brother Stefano has arrived,” Cassian announces, his voice low and controlled.

I feel the briefest moment of discomfort tighten my chest. Stefano. I’ve been waiting for him. Fioretta's advisor, the one who knew her best before all of this. He was supposed to bring some sort of comfort—for her, for me—but it feels like an intrusion.

“He’s down in the foyer,” Cassian continues. “I had a maid go fetch Fioretta.”

I nod. The timing is right. I can already hear the quiet murmur of voices down the hall.

^^^^

I move quickly, Cassian close behind me. We both walk through the corridors in silence, the weight of the moment hanging between us. As we descend the stairs, the sounds of the house feel distant, drowned out by the heavy anticipation of the meeting.

At the base of the stairs, Brother Stefano stands near the door, his presence towering despite his age. His dark priest’s robes flow like shadows, his face lined with the deep years of wisdom and pain. His hands tremble slightly as he clutches the crucifix around his neck, a steady pulse of devotion in his eyes.

As soon as he sees Fioretta, he moves toward her with a rush of emotion, tears welling up in his eyes. He reaches out for her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Oh, bless the Lord who has kept you safe, child,” he says, his voice breaking with a grief-laden relief. His arms wrap around her with an urgency as though he’s afraid she might disappear again.

---