Back to the mansion a few distances from the airport, where Marcello and the others were staying. They had arrived quite early. The ride to the mansion was very silent.
There was definitely something bothering Marcello. He left for about fifteen minutes. Within that period of absence, she was sure something happened.
But she couldn't bring herself to ask him. He kept looking out the window. She tightened her grip on her pants.
'I hope nothing bad happened. It better not affect my growing relationship with Marcello!'
She thought to herself.
.
.
Marcello stood before the mirror, his fingers running through his damp hair. After two hours of carefully removing his disguise, peeling off the prosthetic scars, washing away the makeup, and styling his hair back to its usual sleekness, he finally felt like himself again. The fake identity had served its purpose, but now he could breathe freely in his own skin.
