Mentality of The Heart

CHAPTER 08

Alice's POV

A week had passed since the incident, and I was finally back on my feet—thanks in no small part to Amore, Alfredo, and the rest of the staff. They were relentless, following Mr. Bianchi's unusually strict orders to take care of me as if my life depended on it.

Mr. Bianchi, however, had been noticeably absent. Not a single sighting since that day. I couldn't help but worry. With his worsening condition and unpredictable behavior, it wasn't safe for him to be out and about, especially where prying eyes could see him. But more than that... was he okay?

Shaking the thought, I refocused on the task at hand. I was seated in Mr. Bianchi's office, rifling through a stack of files he'd conveniently left unguarded. Desperation gnawed at me—I needed answers, clues, anything to help me understand what had made him the man he was today.

The moment I opened the file of his former psychiatrist, something caught my attention.

Assigned Doctor
Emily Smith

Date
12 January, 2022

Recent Diagnosis
Child Trauma

Cause of Diagnosis
Unidentified

Child trauma.

The words leaped off the page and gripped my chest like a vice. It made sense... or at least it explained some of his more guarded tendencies. But it wasn't enough. Not even close. I needed more—details, context, the truth.

And I knew just who to ask.

Lucky for me, her contact information was neatly filed away. Without hesitation, I grabbed my phone and dialed her number, my heart pounding in anticipation.

Please pick up, please pick up...

"Hello?" A soft, feminine voice answered on the other end of the line.

"Hi, am I speaking with Emily Smith?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Yes, this is she. Who's calling?"

"My name is Alice Monroe—" I started, but I didn't even get the chance to finish before she let out a shrill squeal that nearly made me drop the phone.

"Oh my gosh! I'm such a huge fan! What an honor, Ms. Monroe. What can I do for you?" she gushed, her enthusiasm bubbling through the receiver.

I blinked. Fans? Me? That was new.

"Uhm, thank you. Well, actually, I'm calling about a former patient of yours... Alexander Dante Bianchi."

Dead silence.

The sudden stillness on the other end of the line was unnerving. I had to glance at my phone just to make sure the call hadn't dropped.

"Ms. Smith? Are you still there?"

"Yes—uh, yes, I'm here," she stammered, her tone now riddled with unease.

"I was wondering if we could meet in person to discuss him further?" I asked cautiously, unsure of how sensitive this topic might be for her.

"Is Alex—I mean, Mr. Bianchi—going to be there?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"No, it'll just be the two of us," I assured her, sensing her reluctance.

"Alright... I'll send you the address of a café we can meet at," she replied, though there was a faint edge of disappointment in her tone.

The moment she hung up, I grabbed my things and bolted out of my room, only to almost crash headfirst into Amore in the hallway.