C82 What Matters

The guilt weighed heavy on Annabelle’s chest as the neighbour’s words echoed in her mind: “Your mother collapsed... she didn’t ask anyone for help.”

How had she allowed this to happen?

She’d known her mother must have been suffering from Tad’s cruelty.

Especially now that he had no one else to use for his twisted fantasies.

He must have taken out her rebellion on her mother.

But she’d convinced herself that staying away was safer for everyone.

Now, standing in the decaying yard of the house she once called home, Annabelle couldn’t escape the feeling that she had failed her mother.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay.

Weeds choked the flower beds that her mother had once tended so lovingly.

The peeling paint on the house seemed to mock her, a silent testament to how much had fallen apart.

Dante was already speaking to the neighbour, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “You’ll take us to the hospital?”

The woman nodded hastily, wringing her hands. “Of course. I’ll drive ahead and show you the way.”

Dante’s expression was unreadable, but his tone brooked no argument as he gave swift orders to his men. “Two of you stay here with Cathy. The rest, secure the perimeter. If Tad or anyone else shows up, I want to know about it immediately.”

Annabelle barely registered his words, her thoughts consumed by images of her mother alone, sick, and collapsing without anyone to catch her.

“Annabelle,” Dante’s voice broke through her spiralling thoughts.

She turned to him, her face pale and her hands trembling.

His dark eyes softened slightly as they met hers, though his tone remained firm. “Cathy stays here. Convince her.”

Annabelle blinked, realising Cathy was clutching her arm with a grip that betrayed her panic. Her sister’s big, tear-filled eyes looked up at her, silently pleading not to be left behind.

“No, I want to come,” Cathy said, her voice trembling. “I want to see Mommy too!”

Annabelle knelt, ignoring the way the damp grass soaked through the knees of her jeans. She gently took Cathy’s hands in hers, her throat tightening as she saw the fear in her little sister’s eyes.

“Cathy, listen to me,” Annabelle said softly, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “We don’t know what we’ll find at the hospital. Mommy is very sick, and I don’t want you to be scared.”

Cathy shook her head, her lower lip trembling. “But I’m not scared, Anna. I want to help her too.”

Annabelle glanced back at Dante, who stood a few steps away with his arms crossed, his gaze locked on the two of them.

His presence was a reminder that time was slipping away.

She turned back to Cathy, cupping her sister’s face with both hands. “I promise, we’ll come back for you as soon as we know Mommy is okay. Dante’s men will stay with you, and you’ll be safe here.”

Cathy sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “But what if she needs me?”

“She needs you to be brave, okay? Just like you’ve been so far,” Annabelle said, brushing a strand of hair from Cathy’s tear-streaked face. “Stay with Uncle Angelo and the others. You can draw Mommy a picture, and we’ll take it to her together later.”

Cathy hesitated, her small hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress. Finally, she gave a reluctant nod.

“Promise you’ll come back?” Cathy whispered, her voice small.

Annabelle swallowed hard. “I promise.”

Dante stepped forward then, his commanding presence filling the space.

He crouched slightly to meet Cathy’s gaze, his tone softer than Annabelle expected. “I’m leaving some of my best men with you, Cathy. You’ll be safer here than anywhere else. And Annabelle and I will be back before you know it.”

Cathy nodded again, her tears still falling but her shoulders relaxing slightly.

Annabelle stood, her legs feeling like jelly.

As Dante’s men ushered Cathy back toward the neighbour’s house, Annabelle felt a pang of guilt so sharp it nearly stole her breath.

She forced herself to turn away, knowing that lingering would only make it harder.

Dante’s hand was suddenly at her lower back, steadying her as they walked toward the car.

The warmth of his touch bled through the fabric of her shirt, grounding her even as her emotions threatened to spiral again.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly, his voice calm but laced with urgency.

The car ride to the hospital was oppressively silent.

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Annabelle sat stiffly in the passenger seat with her hands clenched in her lap.

Every bump in the road seemed to echo in her chest, each one a reminder of how much she had to lose.

Dante sat at ease beside her while her insides were tumbling.

The hum of the engine was the only sound between them, punctuated by the occasional notification sounds on Dante’s phone as his men reported back from their positions.

Annabelle stared out the window, watching the landscape blur past.

The fields of Stoneraine, once familiar and comforting, now seemed foreign and desolate.

Her reflection in the glass was pale and haunted, her green eyes filled with worry.

Dante broke the silence first. “Your mother’s strong.”

Annabelle turned to him, startled by the unexpected softness in his tone.

“You don’t know her,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“But I know you,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t think a woman who gave birth to you could be a ninny all through.”

Annabelle didn’t know what to say so she stared at him for a moment too long.

“She survived Tad, didn’t she?” he continued, his eyes flicking toward her briefly before returning to the road. “She’ll pull through this too.”

Annabelle wanted to believe him, but the weight of her guilt wouldn’t let her. “I should’ve come back sooner,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Dante’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “You did what you thought was best at the time.”

Her laugh was bitter, and she shook her head. “Some daughter I turned out to be.”

Dante didn’t respond immediately, his jaw clenching as he seemed to consider his next words. “You can’t change the past, Annabelle. But you’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Annabelle looked down at her hands, her nails digging into her palms.

She wasn’t sure if his words were comforting or just a painful reminder of how much she had failed.

Soon enough, the hospital loomed ahead, its stark white façade gleaming under the midday sun. Annabelle’s stomach twisted as they pulled into the car park, the sight of the building filling her with dread.

Dante parked the car and was out before she could even unbuckle her seatbelt.

He opened her door, his large frame blocking out the harsh sunlight as he extended a hand to help her out.

Annabelle hesitated, her pride warring with her need for support.

Finally, she took his hand, the strength of his grip both comforting and unnerving.

“Come on,” he said, his voice low but firm.