Chapter 64: Time Away
The casualty statistic was a rather larger number than Dora expected to see. It left her momentarily speechless, her fingers frozen over the screen as she tried to make sense of what she was reading. Dora was supposed to leave the house like usual the next day to see her stepmother, but instantly she decided that the risk wasn’t worth it. The thought of stepping outside filled her with unease.
Moreover, the fear had already taken root in her heart the night before as she slept. Even in her dreams, unease had curled around her mind like a shadow. By the time she woke up, she had already decided—quietly, firmly—that she would look out for her own interests first before anyone else’s.
They were supposed to go to his family’s estate that week, but when Dora insisted on moving the date, Dante didn’t comment much about it. He had only looked at her for a few seconds, then nodded once before going ahead to agree. Something Dora was deeply relieved about as she went ahead to eat breakfast, even as Dante headed out to work shortly after.
A few hours later, her phone rang, but she didn’t even bother to answer. Instead, she asked Guila to inform her family of what had happened, saying she wasn’t feeling well enough to talk. Then, without a second thought, she went back upstairs with a bowl of snacks in hand and settled into her bed to watch a new show.
Even Guila—who would usually come to remind her of her lessons and schedules—chose to leave her alone. That, in itself, was a blessing Dora didn’t take lightly. She spent the day curled under her blanket, laughing at the ridiculous comedy on the screen, crumbs of chips scattered across the sheets. It was lazy, unproductive, and utterly delightful.
The day passed smoothly, and even when night fell, she ate her dinner quietly before Dante returned. Afterward, she headed straight back to her room, relieved when no summons came from him. That meant she had managed to spend the entire day doing absolutely nothing—and no one questioned her for it.
It was lazy and relieving, but it was also something she enjoyed more than she would admit aloud. She went to bed that night thinking the next day would be exactly the same. But that illusion shattered early the next morning when Guila startled her awake at precisely 7:00 a.m., her voice cutting through Dora’s drowsy fog.
"Since you have decided to spend the rest of your week indoors, Mr. Bellini has instructed that your classes continue as usual, including an hour of moderate exercise to ensure your health!" Guila had said crisply, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Dora blinked up at her in disbelief, her mind too foggy to process the words at first. It was the last thing she had expected to hear. The peaceful haze of her self-imposed break crumbled instantly. And that, as it turned out, would be the last moment of real peace she would remember for weeks to come—before she was thrown into a chaos of unending lessons and enforced discipline.
To make matters worse, her new gym instructor was utterly merciless. On the third day, after Dora complained for the third time about a stomach ache that didn’t exist, the woman merely rolled her eyes and said coldly, "It’s five kilograms, Mrs. Bellini. If you truly have pain, I’ll have to inform Mr. Bellini—it might be a lingering disorder!"
Dora had immediately dropped the act, forcing herself to lift the dumbbell again with a pitiful grimace. She hated every second of it, even though she had been allowed to choose the background music herself. The exercise room echoed with upbeat pop songs, but no amount of cheerful rhythm could make the ordeal pleasant.
Contrary to her expectations, the weeks went by faster than she realized. Each day bled into the next—a blur of classes, meals, and small moments of quiet rebellion. By the end of the third week, she was sick of staying in the estate. The walls that had once made her feel safe now felt suffocating.
Three weeks after postponing her visit, Dora finally informed Dante that she was ready to head to his family’s estate with him. The thought of meeting her own family again made her stomach twist. She dreaded the encounter, aware of the brewing resentment that would surely be directed at her.
Dante didn’t hesitate. The next morning, as they sat together at breakfast—a rare occurrence for them—he spoke gently.
"We can go today if you want," he told her.
Dora, dressed in soft gray slacks, looked up at him with surprise. She hadn’t expected him to sound so decisive, especially after how casually he’d treated the matter before.
Dante continued after a small pause, his fork resting against his plate. "Elder Bellini insists that I’ve been mistreating you. He believes that’s the reason you’ve been avoiding family gatherings."
There was a faint frown on his face, but it wasn’t harsh—more puzzled than angry. The sight of it made Dora smile. She could almost picture the old man saying those exact words to Dante in his usual accusing tone.
"I can go now," Dora replied after a moment, lowering her head politely. "I just need to change." She wanted to finish her food first, but her mind was already wandering to what she would wear.
As always, Dante was the perfect cold gentleman—calm, composed, never rushing her in any way. He simply continued his breakfast in silence while she finished hers, then watched as she rose from her seat and headed upstairs to change.
A small smile curved her lips as she entered her room. She rummaged through her wardrobe, finally finding a simple yet flattering dress. Standing before the mirror, she tied her hair into a neat ponytail and applied a touch of makeup. Dora wasn’t stereotypically pretty, but her features had a quiet charm—sharp when she wanted, soft when she smiled. Without her glasses and with just a hint of color on her lips, her reflection pleased her.
When she was done, she headed downstairs and saw Dante waiting by the door. He was on the phone, his voice calm and neutral as always. The sight of his unbothered demeanor made her strangely relieved.
At least he never raised his voice. He was never aggressive, never impulsive. Maybe... maybe she could stay longer if they got along well Dora thought fleetingly. Perhaps she could even stay on as a nanny for the child. It was a logical idea, and Dante was a logical man—surely he would see the sense in it.
But just as usual, she didn’t allow herself to dwell too long on thoughts like that. She walked closer, making her presence known quietly. Dante ended the call almost immediately, his movements smooth and composed, before opening the door and leading her outside.
Like a true gentleman, he guided her to the car, opening the door for her. Dora smiled faintly as she slid into her seat, smoothing her dress as she settled in. A moment later, Dante entered and sat beside her—close enough that their arms brushed. The space between them disappeared, and she instantly understood what he wanted without a word.
Slowly, she leaned her head against his shoulder, lowering her voice so that only he could hear—not the driver or the bodyguard in the front.
"You want us to appear close?" she asked, her tone playful but quiet. She knew this was the same narrative he’d tried to sell the last time they were at the estate.
"I thought we already were," Dante replied, his voice calm, almost indifferent, but his words carried a quiet certainty that made Dora chuckle.
Her laughter was soft, brief, but it lingered in the space between them. She didn’t lift her head from his shoulder. Instead, she let it rest there, eyes half-closed as the car began to move, feeling—for the first time in a long while—an odd sense of ease.
