My vision blurred. I could still hear Ramona's anguished screams, the men's panicked whispers—but I couldn't hold on anymore. My eyes fell shut, and I plunged into endless darkness, where even hatred became a distant thing.
When I woke again, the familiar scent of sandalwood filled my nose. Not the antiseptic smell of a hospital, but the distinctive fragrance of the Simmons estate. I opened my eyes slowly. Above me was the carved ceiling I knew so well. On the nightstand, a lamp cast a soft amber glow—warm light that couldn't touch the ice in my heart.
Ramona was curled up in the chair beside my bed, her eyes swollen like walnuts, dried tear tracks still visible on her face. Her hair was a mess, exhaustion carved deep beneath her eyes. She must have been watching over me for hours. The moment I stirred, she jolted awake and leaned in close, her eyes lighting up with relief and heartache. "Marina! You're awake? Oh thank God, you're finally awake—you scared me half to death!"