Antonio: Vengeance in Disguise

CHAPTER 253

The cries in the room had grown faint, replaced by the sound of shallow, uneven breathing.

The scent of burning incense hung in the thick air, mixed with the faint metallic trace of medicine.

Marianne lay still on the narrow bed, her chest rising and falling in irregular rhythm.

Her skin glistened with sweat; her hair clung to her temples in damp, tangled curls. Every few seconds, her body twitched, as though caught between sleep and pain.

Around her, the crowd of relatives, neighbors, and longtime family friends stood in uneasy silence. Some whispered prayers.

Others simply watched, helpless.

Their faces were mirrors of fear—creased brows, tight jaws, hands clenched together in helpless anxiety.

The only sounds were Marianne’s strained breathing and the rhythmic ticking of the old wall clock above the door.

Cynthia stood near the foot of the bed, her hands trembling.

Her eyes were red and swollen, her lips dry from hours of crying. She turned to Antonio, who stood beside her,