Her fingers brushed the pendant, finally closing around it—but when she opened it, she froze.
The ashes inside had dissolved, washed away by the chlorine and water.
Venice clutched the empty locket to her chest, tears mixing with the pool water.
At that moment, everything inside her went silent.
She would never forgive Kevin! Never, in this lifetime or the next.
As the last of her strength ebbed away, she stopped fighting. The cold seeped into her bones, pulling her down.
And this time, she didn't resurface.
That night, Venice came down with a raging fever that quickly worsened into pneumonia.
For two full days, she drifted in and out of delirium, her body burning and trembling, her mind trapped in a fog.
When she finally opened her eyes again, she found herself not in a hospital—but in a dark, damp room on the first floor of Kevin's villa.
The air was heavy with the scent of disinfectant and mold.
Kevin sat beside her bed, adjusting her IV drip. His expression eased when he saw her awake.
"Venice," he said softly, "your fever has finally gone down. The pneumonia is under control. The doctor came earlier—just rest for a couple more days, and you'll be fine."