**Chapter six**

**Celine's POV**

The first thing I heard was a steady, rhythmic beeping.

My body felt heavy, like I had been asleep for a very long time. I tried to lift my hand, but even that small movement hurt.

I tried to open my eyes, but they wouldn't.

I tried again, and this time, they slowly fluttered open. Bright light flooded my vision, making me wince. I blinked several times before the room finally came into focus. An IV stand stood beside my bed while machines glowed softly in the corner, their steady beeping filling the room.

*Where am I?*

I searched for the familiar wooden ceiling of my bedroom, the one I saw every single morning. This place wasn't my room, it was too dark and cold.

Then I heard water pouring softly.

A blurry figure stood near the window with her back facing me. I blinked until my vision cleared enough to make out a woman watering a small plant on the windowsill. I parted my lips, but the words died before they could leave my throat.

She turned immediately.

The glass jug slipped from her fingers and shattered against the floor, water spread across the tiles as she stared at me.

"You…" Her voice broke in shock. "You're awake?"

The door burst open a second later.

An older man rushed inside. "What happened?"

His eyes landed on me and he stopped short, silence filling the room as both of them stared at me like waking up was the last thing they'd expected.

"We need to inform the boss," the woman said in a low voice, still staring at me. "She's awake."

The boss?

I just stared at them, as memories returned in fragments, my mind struggling to process everything. The cold wind, dark water, and then the voice from the darkness.

*She mustn't die*

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice hoarse and weak. “Where am I?”

The woman exchanged a quick look with the man before answering.

“You’re safe,” she said. “That’s all you need to know for now.”

Safe.

The word felt wrong. Nothing about this felt safe. I tried to sit up, but pain shot through my ribs and my head. I winced and gripped the sheets tightly.

"Don't move. You've been unconscious for two months. Your body is still healing."

Unconscious… two months, that was too long to be asleep.

My baby?

For a moment, everything inside me went still, like my mind had stopped working altogether. My hand moved to my stomach, but the small warmth that had been there before was gone now.

"Have some water…" The woman started, but I cut her off.

"The baby," I whispered, my voice breaking on the word. "What happened to my baby? I can't feel anything."

"The impact," the man I now realized was the doctor said quietly, his voice careful. "When you fell… the trauma was too severe. I'm sorry, but the baby didn't survive."

Something in me broke. I inhaled, but it didn't feel like air reached my lungs. The beeping beside me grew faster, almost frantic.

"The baby was gone before you were brought in." The woman said softly.

Two months.

I had been mourning my baby in my sleep, carrying the absence without even knowing it. My palm pressed harder against my stomach, as if I could force the feeling back into place… as if I could will the baby back.

The doctor stepped forward. "Miss Samantha, I know this is very…"

Samantha?

For a moment, I thought I had misheard him, but even through the pain and exhaustion, I knew exactly who I was.

"Who's Samantha?... And don't," I said, but my voice cracked halfway through. I swallowed hard, blinking fast as tears blurred my vision.

"Don't say you know… because you all don't."

The woman reached out and touched my hand gently. "I'm so sorry."

Sorry was a useless word for a dead child. It doesn't change the fact that I'm lying here with a body that failed the only thing that mattered.

I pull my hand away from hers. "Leave me. Both of you… just leave me alone." The doctor opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else, but the woman shook her head slightly. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving me with the silence and empty space where my baby should be.

I had to get out of here.

The thought settled in the moment I pushed myself up from the bed. Pain moved through my ribs and chest immediately, but I ignored it, gripping the edge of the mattress until my legs finally found the floor.

The cold floor sent a shiver through me the moment I stood. I barely noticed the IV line in my arm before I pulled it out. A sharp sting followed. Warm blood surfaced for a moment before I pressed it down with my hand. For a second, I just stood there, one hand gripping the edge of the bed while I tried to catch my breath. My whole body hurts. My chest burned every time I inhaled, and my legs felt too weak to hold me up.

I looked around the room again.

It was too big. Too quiet. Everything looked expensive, carefully arranged, untouched. It didn't feel like a hospital, but it didn't feel like home either.

Then my eyes landed on something in the corner.

A mirror.

I don't know why I walked toward it. Maybe I wanted proof that I was really awake. Maybe I just wanted to see the woman who had survived. My steps were slow and uneven, one hand brushing against the wall to keep myself steady.

At first, all I saw was my reflection. Then I saw her properly.

I frowned, taking another slow step toward the mirror, almost expecting the reflection to change once I got closer.

The woman in front of me looked different. Completely.

The face in the mirror wasn't mine. Her skin was smooth, untouched, no bruises, no marks, nothing I remembered living with. Her cheekbones looked higher. Her nose didn't feel like mine at all. I opened my mouth to breathe, and even that felt strange coming from her face. My hair fell over my shoulders in soft dark waves, neat and untouched, nothing like the tangled mess I remembered. Something uneasy started to crawl through my chest.

"No…"

The word came out before I could stop it.

I touched my face again, harder this time, like I could force it to change back.

"What happened to my face?" My voice broke on the last word.

And then the door opened again.

The same woman from earlier stepped inside, carrying a small breakfast tray.

She stopped the moment she saw me standing.

"Miss Samantha..."

I flinched at the name. I didn't recognize it, didn't understand why it was being said to me. Her eyes dropped to my bare feet. Only then did I remember the glass jug she had dropped when I opened my eyes. The shattered pieces were still scattered across the floor.

She quickly set the tray down.

"You shouldn't be standing," she said softly, walking toward me. "Please... sit back on the bed."

"Where am I?"

"You need to rest."

"What happened to my face?"

For a moment, her expression changed, sadness flickering through it, she looked like she wanted to answer.

Instead, she glanced down at the broken glass.

"Please, Miss sam. Sit down first."

Sam was my name now?

I looked at the floor.

Tiny shards of glass reflected the weak light in the room. Slowly, my legs carried me back toward the bed. She let out a quiet breath and picked up a small brush and dustpan from beside the cabinet.

The only sound in the room was the soft scrape of glass being swept together.

"I brought you some breakfast," she said gently. "The milk is still warm."

She finished cleaning the shards of glass and made sure the floor was clear, wiped her hands on her apron, she turned and placed the tray beside the bed carefully, arranging everything in quiet order, a cup of warm milk, a slice of toast, and a small plate of fruit. As she adjusted the tray, her hand brushed a folded newspaper that had been left there earlier, she moved it aside and set it neatly on the bed.

I looked at her again.

“Who is the boss?... Why did he save me?”

She didn’t answer right away. She adjusted the blanket around me and checked the IV line in my arm.

“You’ll meet him soon enough,” she said quietly. “For now, you need to rest. Your body has been through a lot. You should eat too."

Something in the newspaper caught my eye first, just broken bits of words at the edge.

…Vatores…

…Heiress…

My hand moved before I understood why.

I picked it up.

I don't even remember deciding to hold it properly. I just did.

I unfolded it slowly, like my hands were moving on their own.

Then I saw the headline.

**SALVATORE HEIRESS CONFIRMED DEAD — POLICE INVESTIGATE SUSPECTED SUICIDE**