Chapter 7: The Final Act

Leonardo's room was silent, and he lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. When Angela entered, he was disturbed by her presence.

"Why did you come back?" he moaned. "Are you trying to provoke me? Your scent is driving me crazy."

"I have no intention of upsetting you, sir," Angela reassured him. "I came back for a few reasons. First, to make sure you're eating and to thank you for doing so. Second, you have some visitors waiting to see you."

"Get rid of them," Leonardo muttered. "You should know what I want." He coughed.

"Perhaps you should try some cough medicine," Angela suggested, handing him the bottle. "And your ex-girlfriend, Miss Lara Chavez, is here again."

"We broke up," Leonardo stated flatly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Angela said flatly. "But that's not why I'm here. They’re here for your paintings.”

"Are you crazy?" interrupted Leonardo. "I've told you I don't want to hear about my paintings anymore."

"Please don't yell at me," Angela said calmly. "I'm just doing what I was asked to do. Your mother has full authority to delegate tasks to me, and she wanted me to tell you about their plan."

"What plan?" Leonardo asked, looking confused.

"It wasn't your mother who sent me; it's your girlfriend and your best friend," Angela said, her voice laced with accusation.

Leonardo's immediate response was to tell her to shut up, but Angela persisted. "Only then will I remain silent when you hear their intent? They want to keep showing your paintings!"

Leonardo remained silent, but Angela pressed on. "You're planning an art show, aren't you?" she said, walking up to his desk and locking her gaze on him. "And you're involved because your paintings are what they plan to sell."

Leonardo was growing increasingly agitated. "I'm not interested in their plans," he snapped.

"But your art is what they're using to make money," Angela pointed out. "Don't you care about that?"

"They're troubled people," Leonardo muttered, trying to dismiss the conversation.

Angela wasn't having it. "Do you want me to tell them anything?" she asked, her tone challenging.

"Just tell them it's up to them to decide what to do. I don't care," Leonardo said, his frustration mounting.

"If that's the case, give them the key to your studio because they intend to inspect it," Angela retorted.

"My mother has the key. Get out now," Leonardo said his voice cold and final.

After a few Moments

"Open the door, Angela," Lara demanded impatiently as they stood outside the art studio, which looked like an abandoned house that had not been cared for. Dry leaves were strewn about, tall weeds grew around it, and the veranda was blustered. The studio had a rooftop and was located below a high cliff.

"Calm down, Lara. Don't bother Angela," Fredrick advised, trying to diffuse the tension.

But Lara was not easily pacified. "Just open the door already!" she snapped.

Reluctantly, Angela opened the studio door, and they were immediately hit by the sight of filth and disorder. "Oh my God, the studio is filthy," Lara exclaimed, aghast.

Paint cans were scattered around, canvases were on the floor, and brushes with hardened paint were in every corner of the room. The seats were covered in thick layers of dust, and the studio looked like it hadn't been used in years.

Angela could imagine Leonardo in a fit of rage, tossing and discarding his paints and canvases in his grief. "What's going on here?" she asked, her voice tinged with disappointment.

"It's because Leonardo rages at the world for being blind," Fredrick explained, trying to justify the sorry state of the studio.

But Lara had spotted something that caught her attention. "Fredrick, the easels with the canvases are just around the corner," Lara exclaimed as she ran to the covered canvases. "Look, Fredrick!" she laughed.

Fredrick's eyes widened with delight. "Wow!" he exclaimed.

Lara continued to laugh. "Fredrick, this is what we're looking for. Leonardo's paintings!" she exclaimed, her excitement overriding any disappointment they had felt earlier.

They began to explore the studio, pulling and gathering all of Leonardo's paintings into the center of the floor. Angela just stared at them motionless. She didn't like their happy expressions. All that mattered to them were the master's paintings.

Lara was dancing with Fredrick and swaying around the room when they realized Angela was staring at them. They all turned to face her.

"You can go now," Lara said, abruptly changing her mood from gay to gloomy and angry.

Angela walked out of the studio without saying a word. She was in a bad mood at the time. She despised Lara Chavez ever since she saw her crying her way out of Leonardo's room. She detected something unreal in her movements. She was playing a character.

As Angela walked into the kitchen, the rich aroma of coffee filled the air. Mrs. Vera sat at the dining table, sipping her coffee alone.

"How's everything going at the studio?" Mrs. Vera asked.

"They've found what they were looking for, Mrs. Vera," Angela replied. "And they're-"

"What, Angela?" Mrs. Vera interrupted.

Angela hesitated. "Maybe I should check with Mr. Vera. Would you mind if I left you to it?"

"Wait, Angela. Can we talk for a moment?" Mrs. Vera's eyes darkened, and it was clear she had been crying. "I need someone to talk to."

"Of course, Mrs. Vera," Angela said, taking a seat across from her boss. Mrs. Vera's eyes were fixed on her empty cup, and Angela could sense the pain behind them. But she knew she couldn't get too involved.

After a few moments of silence, Mrs. Vera spoke up. "I don't know what to do with my son, Angela. Every time I see him, my heart breaks for his condition." She sobbed and continued, "Leonardo is such a kind and loving person."

Angela felt a lump form in her throat, but she remained silent and listened as Mrs. Vera poured out her heart. "As a mother, I should have taken more responsibility for Leonardo, but I couldn't. I knew I would have a heart attack if I tried to keep a constant watch on him. So, Angela, I'm begging you."

"What is it, Mrs. Vera?" Angela asked, her concern growing.

"Please help me make my son's life better. He's my only source of joy in this world, and if I lose him, everything will be for nothing." Mrs. Vera held Angela's hand tightly, her own hands cold and shaking.

Angela nodded, “I’ll do my best, Mrs. Vera. You can count on me." Her heart pumped with the lies she just promised.

Angela's heart raced as she fought the urge to flee. She wasn't sure what she was feeling, but her chest ached with pain.

"Angela, please do everything you can to give Leonardo hope. Please, for my sake, help him," Mrs. Vera pleaded.

"I'll do my best, Mrs. Vera," Angela said, making a promise she knew she couldn't keep. Her true goal in that house was to kill Leonardo.

"Thank you," Mrs. Vera said, releasing Angela's hands. "Take care of my son."

"Yes, Mrs. Vera," Angela said, quickly walking out of the kitchen. She felt like she was floating, her feet not touching the ground. The weight of Leonardo's mother's anguish seemed to have already consumed her. She knew that if she stayed in that house any longer, her life would be forever changed. She needed to gather her strength and softly asked permission to leave.

Angela's mind raced as she stood outside Leonardo's father's room. She knew what she had to do, and it had to be done quickly. She located the key hidden beneath the fake flower pot and entered the room. She found the pistol in the drawer, just as Leonardo had instructed.

Her hands shook as she held the weapon, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. "It's time for him to die," she whispered to herself.

Angela quickly closed the drawer and wiped down the edges to remove any fingerprints. She had seen enough thriller movies to know that she needed to leave no trace behind. She hurried into Leonardo's room and shut the door.

Leonardo was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring out the closed window. "Where is it?" he muttered, not turning to face her.

Angela knew what he meant and remained still. She slowly drew the pistol from her waist, and Leonardo finally turned in her direction. "I'm sure you are, Angela," he said calmly. "Now, give me the gun."

But Angela didn't budge. "Don't be in a hurry," she said flatly, her eyes fixed on Leonardo's.

"Did you know that painting was my first love?" he asked, gritting his teeth. "I was happy at first, but that was cut short by a stupid woman. That's why Fredrick and I got into a motorcycle accident." His voice trembled with rage.

"Were you and your best friend in that accident?"

"Yes, and I'm the one who deteriorated and went blind," Leonardo sobbed."I'm useless now," he said, his jaw tightening. I'm no longer able to paint. In this world, I'm an idler, so... give me the pistol right now. "

Angela abruptly tossed the pistol on the bed. "OK, kill yourself," she said, her voice no longer her own. Her throat ached from holding back her rage and tears.