Mercy

Cabalist

When something feels off, it is. —Abraham Nicks.
     
Cabalist: one who is skilled in keeping secrets.                  
                     
                       Chapter 4
I couldn't sleep that night; my heart raced at the thought of sleeping in the same premises with Beatrice, knowing she had a secret that couldn't be shared on the phone. Every sound I heard was enough to put me in a frenzy of emotions. I was going paranoid, and I didn't even know what Mike wanted to tell me. As dawn approached, I had a shower, got dressed, and stepped out of the hotel. I was warned to make sure no one followed me, so I had to be precise in my movements. I decided to stop for breakfast. I pretended to savor the food, but in reality, I didn't even have the appetite for the pancakes I forced into my mouth. I didn't want to seem in a hurry or as though I was heading off to a particular place. As I ate my breakfast, I contemplated texting the detective but quickly disregarded the thought. I had no reason at all to trust them.
**Flashback: A 28-Year-Old Alessandra**

I never knew pain like this existed. My brain was fuzzy as I lay in a pool of my own blood, desperately trying to reach the phone a few feet away. It had been two years since I married Leonard-two years of conflict and abuse, two years of infidelity. I didn't know if I would make it to the next day. Leonard hated me, and he made sure I knew it in every possible way. The fact that I hadn't fulfilled my purpose to him only made it worse. If only I could bear a child, maybe then this nightmare would end. Crawling slowly to the phone, I picked it up and dialed 911.

A woman's voice answered, "911, what's your emergency?"

"Please help me," I gasped. "My husband... he wants to kill me. I'm hurt pretty bad and need immediate care. Please..."

"Okay, ma'am. If I could just get your address... And when you say he wants to kill you, is he anywhere around you?"

"Conti Estate, please," I answered, desperation clawing at my tone. "No, he's not here. He left a while back." I was scared-terrified of dying. Hell, I didn't want to die.

"Conti Estate... Ma'am, by any chance, is your husband Leonard Conti?"

I didn't understand why that mattered, but I answered nonetheless, feeling myself losing consciousness. All I could do was pray they made it in time. "Yes, he is."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. We can't help you."

With that, the line disconnected, and so did any glimmer of hope I had.

**End of Flashback**

The clatter of my empty plate being taken away snapped me out of my thoughts. I had truly suffered, but I still loved my husband. And I was going to avenge whoever took
him from me.

---

After eating, I headed back to my room because that was my normal routine, the guard following quietly behind me. I entered my room and decided to waste a bit of time before I went to meet Mike. I cleaned my room up a bit, hiding the book that I jotted down any information regarding my husband's death under my bed. I had told the receptionist not to send in room service till I asked for it, after cleaning my room I picked up my phone. I sat down on the dressing table and took a sweet piece of blueberry that was hanging over the blue butterfly-shaped necklace that my husband got for me, tears threatened to slip from my eyes as I remembered the day he gave it to me. I picked it up, glancing at the name engraved in the middle 'Conti'. It was beautiful cause I loved my husband's last name, I decided to wear it but after some thought, I merely hung it on a jewelry stand. I stared at my name on the necklace for a while, then I decided it was time. I would find out everything I could and avenge my husband.
                       Timeskip
I was sitting in the small cafe, the dark-skinned man in glasses sitting opposite me as the distinct smell of caffeine invaded my nostrils. The air felt thick with tension. "Please tell me what you found out," I urged, my voice barely steady. Mike took a deep breath, his eyes locked on mine, as if measuring the weight of his words."Beatrice might have something to do with the murder," he said, his tone low and deliberate. My heart raced as I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. "Well, what makes you say that?" I asked, leaning forward, my voice a whisper.He paused, glancing around the room, before speaking again. "Beatrice has a two-year-old son." The revelation was a shock, seeing as Beatrice wasn't married. My mind raced to connect the dots. "What does that have to do with my husband's murder?" I pressed, tension lacing my tone as I held the coffee mug, my fingers gripping it tightly.Mike hesitated, then leaned closer, lowering his voice further. "Leonard is the father of the child." The words hung in the air like a bombshell, and I felt the world tilt on its axis. My fingers slipped, and the mug fell from my grasp, clattering on the table."What do you mean Leonard is the father? Beatrice is his sister," I stammered, disbelief coloring my words.Mike looked at me with a mix of pity and urgency. "Not by blood—only by name. It happened when they were under the influence of alcohol during a trip to Spain for business with Elijah Conti." His voice was steady, but I could sense the underlying gravity."But what does this have to do with the murder?" I asked, desperation creeping into my voice.Mike leaned back, his expression somber. "There's footage of Beatrice meeting Alex Romanov almost every day for two weeks. On the night of the murder, Alex was in your house."A shiver ran down my spine. The implications were chilling. "What was Alex doing in my house? And why didn't Beatrice mention this to the cops?" My mind was spinning with questions, each more unsettling than the last.

                       Authors note:

😭I saw a literal short story having 88 chapters,how is that short 😭 but guys thank you for 18 reads,it means a lot to me and I hope we keep growing
Comment any adjustments and stuff
🙏🏽🫶🏿
Oh guys please be mindful and very demure when it comes to your words😭