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Chapter 6: The Paintings

Angela stared at Leonardo with frustration, unable to comprehend his stubbornness. She couldn't help but recall her past experiences with patients who had lost hope, like Alice Robin, who had lost both her legs in an accident and was unable to walk. Angela had worked tirelessly to provide emotional support to Alice, absorbing the pain she felt every time Alice cried. But Leonardo was not like Alice - he was her adversary.

"You are unbelievably obstinate," Angela snapped, her voice laced with irritation as she pushed the small table toward Leonardo. "The food is right in front of you. There is no cotton head."

Leonardo's response was maddening. "Poison the food," he demanded.

Angela's frustration boiled over. "I cannot poison the food, or else I'll be imprisoned," she retorted sharply. "If you die from the poison, the police will come looking for me, and I will be arrested. Do you want me to spend the rest of my life in misery?"

Leonardo's silence was deafening as if he was lost in thought. "Do you want me to die of irritability?" he asked.

"You would be better off dying of annoyance than poison," Angela grumbled. She took a few steps towards Leonardo, her tone becoming more argumentative. "Listen to me. I am well aware of what a blind person is capable of. Use your imagination as a painter like you used to be."

Leonardo's attempt to seize Angela left her reeling, but she managed to escape his grasp. "I warned you not to remind me of who I am!" he yelled, his rage palpable.

Angela felt her heart racing as she struggled to catch her breath. She wanted nothing more than to slap him across the face, but she knew she needed to maintain her composure. Despite the anger simmering inside of her, she knew what needed to be done with her adversary. Leonardo was right - he needed to die of depression, just like her sister.

"Fine," she said her voice steady as she regained her composure. "Eat the food that's in front of you. The bread is on the right, the dish is on the left, and the water is in the center. There's also a glass of milk on the left. Do you hear me?"

"Where's the fork?" Leonardo asked.

"You can't use a fork because you might use it to kill me," Angela explained, her tone matter-of-fact. "So wash your hands and eat. There's a small basin with water on your right."

Leonardo remained silent as if merely listening to her instructions.

"Would you like to hear me sing?" Angela asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Don't sing; I'm going to eat," Leonardo grumbled. "Your voice will make me puke."

After a few moments of hesitation, Leonardo tentatively reached for the food in front of him, as if checking Angela's descriptions.

Angela couldn't help but notice Leonardo's long, dirty fingernails. "Let's cut your nails after you eat," she suggested.

"Don't mess with my nails," he growled as he drew water from the basin to wash his hands. "And I don't want anyone looking at me while I eat."

"You don't see me," Angela grumbled.

"Even so, get out," he insisted.

"Fine, I'll leave you alone until you finish your milk," Angela replied, trying to maintain her professionalism. "And don't waste your food; many people are going hungry right now. Think about it." With that, she exited the room, leaning against the closed door to take a deep breath.

As she regained her composure, Leonardo began eating with a sense of relief, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Despite the difficulties of dealing with such a challenging patient, Angela's dedication as a nurse carried on. She stepped outside to get some fresh air, ready to continue her duties with unwavering resolve.

The house was grand, but it lacked warmth and vitality. The white paint on the exterior was peeling, giving it a neglected appearance. The fruit trees in the backyard were untended, and their fruits were rotting on the ground. Even the ocean view, which would have been breathtaking, seemed to be lifeless and dull. Angela couldn't help but feel that the house reflected the emptiness of its owner, Leonardo Vera.

It was as if the house was a mere showpiece to display his wealth and power, but devoid of any real purpose or meaning. Angela wondered if Vera was truly happy with his life, living in this massive house all alone, without any real companionship or human connection.

As she continued to stroll around the property, Angela couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. The grandeur of the house only served to highlight its emptiness, and the eerie silence made her feel as if she was in a haunted mansion. It was a stark reminder that money and material possessions could not fill the void of a lonely and unhappy soul.

The front door was the size of a church door and had an arc design. The stone staircase on the left led down to the back of the house, past the fruit trees, to Leonardo Vera's studio. The second gate was to the right.

There were three gates to the house. The first one was in the front, one in the main house, and one in the back of the house, which serves as a shortcut to Leonardo’s studio.

But as she looked around the house, she could feel the emptiness. There appeared to be no such thing as life.

"How's my son doing?" Mrs. Vera joined her in the swing.

"She was eating when I left his room. I have to give him space. He does not want anyone looking at him while he eats. "

"Thank you very much again," Mrs. Vera said, sighing and turning away. "Leonardo was a happy-go-lucky person. He used to hold parties here on all occasions," she smiled as she reminisced.

Angela nodded politely, but she couldn't help but feel skeptical. She had seen firsthand how cold and cruel Leonardo could be, and she couldn't imagine him as a happy-go-lucky party host. Still, she didn't want to say anything that could upset Mrs. Vera.

"That sounds lovely," Angela said with a smile. "This house must have seen many happy moments over the years."

"Yes, it has," Mrs. Vera agreed a wistful expression on her face. "But things change, people change. I just wish I could turn back time and make everything right again."

Angela could sense the sadness in Mrs. Vera's voice and decided to change the subject. "Mrs. Vera, have you thought about seeking some professional help for your son? I could recommend some excellent therapists."

Mrs. Vera shook her head. "I've tried that before, but it didn't work. Leonardo refused to see anyone. He's convinced that he doesn't need any help and that he's perfectly fine the way he is."

Angela could understand how difficult it must be for Mrs. Vera to deal with her son's stubbornness, but she knew that Leonardo needed to get the help he needed.

"By the way, how did you get Leonardo to eat?" Mrs. Vera asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"It's simple. I just sang, and it freaked him out," Angela replied, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

"What?" Mrs. Vera laughed in amazement. "You're kidding! I've never heard of such a thing."

Angela shook her head. "Nope, it's true. And it worked like a charm."

Mrs. Vera beamed at her. "Thank you, Angela. You've made my day. I was so worried about Leonardo."

Just then, a sleek black sports car pulled up, and Lara and Frederick emerged.

"How are you, Mrs. Vera?" Lara asked, giving her a warm embrace.

"Better now that Leonardo is eating," Mrs. Vera replied, her excitement growing. "And guess what? Angela here has a secret weapon."

Lara raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."

Angela recounted the story of how she'd gotten Leonardo to eat, Frederick listened in amazement.

"Brilliant," Frederick exclaimed. "Brilliant."

Lara Chavez was unbothered by Angela's presence, her attention completely focused on the discussion at hand. "Fredrick and I are here to discuss Leonardo's paintings. We've agreed to continue the exhibition with his pieces. Were you aware of this?" Lara asked, turning to Mrs. Vera.

Mrs. Vera was taken aback by the unexpected news. She glanced over at Angela, who sat quietly to the side. "I had no idea," Mrs. Vera replied, her confusion evident.

Fredrick, however, seemed unperturbed by Mrs. Vera's surprise. "We want to surprise Leonardo. His paintings deserve to be showcased, and we want to make sure they're sold to the right buyers," he explained.

Lara's excitement was palpable. "This exhibition will be a secret, and it's going to be a huge success. The publicity alone will attract many collectors, especially when they learn that the artist is blind," she exclaimed.

Mrs. Vera's expression turned to one of concern. "But wouldn't it be better for Leonardo to be aware of what's happening? He deserves to have a say in how his paintings are sold," she suggested.

Lara shook her head. "No, no, no. It's better this way. Think about the value of the paintings. Leonardo's blindness only adds to the mystique and intrigue of his art. It's what will make them sell for more," she explained.

Fredrick nodded in agreement. "There's a certain allure to artists with disabilities. It's what sets them apart from other artists and makes their work more valuable," he added.

While Angela remained silent, her discomfort with the situation was evident. It was clear that these two were only concerned with making a profit, and Leonardo's well-being was not even a consideration.

Mrs. Vera looked to Angela for her input on the matter. "What are your thoughts, Angela?" she asked.

Angela took a moment to compose herself before speaking up. "There's a major problem with your plan," she began.

Lara was quick to interrupt. "What problem? We're simply trying to showcase Leonardo's talent," she protested.

"The problem is that Leonardo doesn't want to be defined by his disability or his art," Angela explained. "Even the mere mention of the word 'painter' can trigger a negative response in him. It will make him crazy."

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