I would have done anything to feel real again. I was not surprised when I felt nothing when Cesare killed my dearest friend, and I felt even less—if possible—for the death of Bianca.

Yet, I loved Carla. In my earliest months at the Rosa in Fiore she was the kindest and the most patient with me. She did not tease me when I unpacked my things and displayed the rich and thick fabrics that I had worn. She did not call me a rich puttana who had betrayed my family and was kicked out. She sat lovingly at my bedside the morning after I had first been hired—crying at the life I had gotten myself into. Carla did not know my past, she did not know where I came from and she never asked, knowing that in time I would tell her myself. All she knew was that I blushed and my face would turn red whenever Ezio was around. Her face did the same, but she had once shared a bed with Ezio, so her feelings were more profound than mine. I had realized after three months that our feelings for him would always remain unrequited. His sister, and the madam of the brothel, Claudia, had told us that he once loved a woman who married someone else, and she died loving Ezio. She told us his heart remained devoted to that woman and that she thought he would never love anyone ever again. Such words broke our hearts, but we stayed in love.

Some nights when we both had no employer, we would sit by the river near the brothel and dangle our feet in the moonlit water, sitting and laughing about nothing at all; but the mere fact that I had a friend for the first time in my life made me treasure those moments. I knew I could trust her with anything, and that I could say to her anything my heart was feeling, but at the same time, I feared she would despise me and think me the rich puttana that everyone had called me in the beginning. I almost told her I was the mistress of the notorious Cesare Borgia, I almost told her that I conspired against him to help Ezio, and I almost told her the reason why I could not hold a pen or needle in my hands and make them functional. Her eyes would look and sparkle at me in the friendly and sisterly way they always did on those nights, and she would practically beg me with those eyes to speak the truth, but I couldn't. I knew she wanted to know, I knew the curiosity was killing her, but I cared about our friendship too much to risk hurting it and to risk bringing up the past I had tried so hard to forget. And so I remained silent, and now she her curiosity will never be satisfied.

"Well, well, the Assassin showed up," said Cesare, bringing me back to the reality that I was on top of a clock tower roof. "A little tardy, however."

"Cesare…" said Ezio in an angry and low voice, standing behind me.

"I was trying to prove a point, and I thank you for helping me make it. Now nothing would make my day better… except slicing your throat and add you to the pile," hissed Cesare.

"You make no point by killing two innocent people!" yelled Ezio.

"The deed is done, and I know you do not mean to kill me right now, so why are you here?"

Ezio grabbed my arm and brought me close, so close that I could see his face from underneath the hood.

"You cannot have Louise," he said.

I felt a spark of happiness, thinking that he truly did care for me. I smiled for a moment, thinking and wondering what I could have done to make him love again. This happiness faded quickly as logic and rationality came in. He wanted me safe and away from Cesare because I knew too much. My heart sank and filled with despair and anger. I looked at Cesare who also shared the same emotions on his face.

If I were the same woman who wore the pale blue dress I would have run to his side. I would not have cared if he never loved me, for he would feign the love I required and it would have been enough; but I am not the same person. His anger is not enough to make up for his fake devotion. I would rather be with Ezio and know he does not he love me and show no misleading signs, than to be with Cesare and know he does not love me but pretend he does.

All he does is not a declaration of his love for me, I told myself, but a declaration of his blood thirsty and cruel nature. He wanted me to suffer, as he wanted his past mistresses to suffer, like poor Lucrezia. Those haunting words that burned in a fire from a letter Ezio had written more than a year ago still lingered in my mind; you play with Cesare's head but not his heart. Do not be fooled and think he loves you; he cares for no one but himself. He did his part- he made me suffer.

"Do you think she will let you take her, after you let me kill her friends?" he retorted.

I tugged my arm away from Ezio's grasp and said, "You are both at fault. Cesare for killing them, and you…" I looked into Ezio's beautiful brown eyes, "You for not coming."

Whatever reason or excuse he had for not being here to save their innocent souls, I will never know. He stayed quiet, but the next thing he did was pick me up without my consent and carry me to the edge of the building. I looked down with fear and wondered: was he going to drop me?

"Ezio, wait what are you—

The air suffocating into my mouth and nose cut off my sentence. I was falling and I looked up at Ezio as he stepped away from the edge until I could no longer see him. I did not know why he dropped me and I only wished that I had one final moment with Cesare to apologize. It was then, during my fall from the high clock tower, that I was content with dying but the only thing that made me wish to live longer was… Cesare. My heart tightened as I imagined him living without me—with another woman; one prettier, smarter, and kinder than I. I imagined him telling his father and sister that he finally found a woman he loved. One he could openly admit to loving. He would hold her hand and tell her the stories I always yearned to hear about his past. He would forget his ambitions of ruling all of Italia and he would forget the golden sphere. He would resign from the Templar Order and would live a peaceful and quiet life with that woman until his wife died, and he could marry her. He would not name his children after me, he would not hurt that woman and he would always tell her how much he cared. He would say that horrid word that he now despises. The words he never wishes to speak aloud, not to his father or sister, or to me in reply when I said it to him. He would tell that woman he loved her, and all his past mistresses, all his past lovers, their hearts would break as he would say those words. My heart as well, my heart would break and I realized with sadness that I still loved Cesare. I had tried to hide it for so long and push it back, pretending I did not care, but I always did love Cesare. I loved him more than I loved myself, or Ezio. Cesare was the one my heart thought of in my dying moments and I wished I had realized this before ruining my life and spending a torturous year without him. I closed my tear-soaked eyes and accepted the death I would face, and that my only happiness in dying was that I would soon be with Carla.

This is not the end, dear reader. I had more to endure before I could actually die uneasily in the earth.