Marceline Hawthorne is a 22 year old girl who loves flowers and works at a flower shop, hoping to one day own her own. she's a ray of sunshine, so kind and sweet you'd get a toothache. she lives in an apartment and can't have a garden which breaks h...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
__________________________________
Adonis had gotten more information from Alberto; he was told that his brother is supposedly in Rome, so that's where we are headed.
"Are you nervous?" I ask, squeezing his hand assuringly as we walk up to the house that his brother could be living in. He looks at me for a moment, purses his lips, and shakes his head.
"No, I thought I would be, but I'm more excited than nervous," he says softly. I smile and nod. We get to the door, and he steps ahead of me and rings the doorbell. He steps back, and we wait for a moment. After a minute, the door opens, and a short woman with jet black hair and deep brown eyes meets us.
"Ciao," she says, her thick Italian accent coating her words.
"Ciao, sono Adonis, sto cercando Miles Santoro?" He speaks, and I'm looking back and forth between them, trying to figure out what they're saying. I know Spanish, but I'm not super familiar with Italian.
"Miles...?" she asks in English.
He nods. "You know him?" He asks, and she looks away for a moment, mutters something under her breath in Italian, and then turns back to us. "Yes," she answers hesitantly, pain flickering in her eyes before she pinches them closed.
"Is he here?" adonis asks
She shakes her head before opening her eyes. "Si accomodi," she says, opening the door for us to walk in. We do, and it opens up into the living room. The walls are painted the lightest shade of green possible, with an accent wall painted forest green on our right. On the left wall is a framed painting; it seems old and probably worth a lot.
The room curves slightly, but on the same wall further down is a green couch, a glass coffee table in front, and two chairs on the opposite side, facing the couch. Further past the couch, which leads into the kitchen, a small island connects to the wall on the right and separates the kitchen from the living room.
We walk in, and she sits down on the couch, and we sit in the chairs opposite her. As we sit, she stands and says, "Oh, would you like some coffee? tea?" She asks, Adonis looks at me, and I look back at her. "Coffee would be wonderful; thank you." I smile, and she nods, smiling back, and she walks into the kitchen.
After a minute, she comes back with two cups of coffee. We take them, and she sits down. "My apologies; I didn't introduce myself. I'm Iris Dinapoli," she says and pauses. "It's nice to meet you, Iris," Adonis replies, and I smile at her. "I'm Marceline; it's nice to meet you. You have a lovely home."
"Thank you; it's nice to meet you both as well."
Adonis takes a sip of his coffee and clears his throat. Sitting up in the chair, he starts, "How do you know Miles?"
"He was my best friend; I had known him since we were little. If you don't mind me asking, How do you know him?" she replies
"He's my brother,"
Her eyes widen slightly, and after a moment of processing, she chuckles. "Well, I do see the resemblance."
"Where is he?" adonis asks. Her smile fades, and she purses her lips.
"A little over a year ago, someone came to my door asking for him; they spoke only English and demanded that I give them miles. I obviously asked why they were there, but they never answered." She pauses, clearing her throat.
"They stormed in; he was just coming in from the balcony when they came inside. They grabbed him and pulled him out of the house. I had found out that they'd taken him to the police, so I went." Adonis tilts his head slightly. I glance at him, and it looks like he's trying to process all of this.
"He wasn't there; they had told me he was accused of murdering his late wife. This was obviously not true, but there wasn't anything I could do."
Adonis looks at her for a moment. He sets his cup down on the coffee table. "What happened to his wife?" he asks, and her brows furrow.
"She was murdered, but not by him."
"How do you know?" he asks, and she sips her coffee.
"I don't, but I know him. He wouldn't hurt her; he loved her more than anything," she explains, and Adonis frowns slightly.
"Thank you; do you know where they took him?" He asks, his voice quieter than before.
She nods slowly. "After he told them he didn't kill her and that he was framed, they took him to an insane asylum outside of the city. I tried going to see him, but they wouldn't let me." She answers, and Adonis nods. placing his cup on the coffee table and standing up.
"Thank you for your help; we'll be going now." We all stand and walk to the door. Before we do, she gives me a hug, and I return the warm embrace. Then she hugs Adonis; tears line her eyes, and when they let go, she takes his hands in hers. "Please bring him back to me," she says, her voice quiet and cracking with each word. He nods. "I promise," he whispers.
After leaving Iris', we decided to drive the 2 hours to the mental hospital. Adonis was clearly nervous, but I didn't want to make it worse by prying, but I had a feeling that if I didn't ask, I would be the worst not-girlfriend ever. "I'm sorry about miles."
"Don't be; it's not your fault. Maybe he did kill his wife, maybe not; either way, I still want to find him."
"why? Why do you want to find him? I mean, you've been through so much recently, and I can't imagine finding out the brother you didn't know you had is a murderer is good for you mentally."
He sighs, waiting a moment before answering.
"I'm not entirely sure, but after losing my parents, I thought I had no family left; aside from Flynn and Theo, I had no one I trusted. If he really is my brother, then I need to meet him, even if hes not exactly all there."
I put a hand over his and looked at him and smiled. He looked at me for a moment and smiled back.
We arrive, driving up to the gated entrance, and the gate automatically opens when we pull up. We drive through, and it closes behind us. We drive down the long driveway until we get to a small parking lot.
We get out and walk to the doors. I walk behind Adonis as he opens one of the doors, and we walk through. The room is a small waiting room with a desk straight head, and to the left of it are double doors. There are a few chairs against the right wall, and it smells sterile and clean. We get to the front desk, and the lady sitting there looks up at us as we do.
"Name?" she asks blandly.
"Adonis Santoro," he replies. The clicking of keys on a keyboard echos through the almost empty room.
"Here for who?" she asks.
"Miles Santoro," he replies, and she pauses, looking up at him for a moment.
"Are you sure?" Her voice is quiet.
"Yes," he confirms, and she nods once.
"They'll be here to escort you in just a moment."
After a few minutes, a man walks through the double doors. "Adonis?" he calls out. I look at Adonis, and he looks back at me. We walk up to him, and he opens the door for us to walk through, which we do.
