Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
My thoughts go to my sister. “Where is Francesca?”
“She’s coming with us. Get there, Enrico—hurry.” She begins to sob, and I know that this is serious.
“Okay, Mamma, I’m on my way. Don’t worry, it will be okay.”
Twenty minutes later, I am running up the corridor toward the intensive care unit of the hospital.
“Hello,” I pant to the girl on reception. “Giuliano Ferrara was brought in here, alongside my grandfather Stefano.”
Her face falls. “What is your name, sir?”
“Enrico Ferrara. Can I see them?”
“Just a moment. “ She picks up the phone and calls someone. “We have Enrico Ferrara here.” She listens for a moment. “Yes, he is Giuliano’s son.”
I look between her and the other nurses as they make eye contact. “What’s wrong?” I snap as unease fills me.
“Take a seat,” she says kindly. “The doctor is on his way.”
I begin to pace as I drag my hand down my face. “I don’t want to see the doctor. I want to see them. Now.” I’m getting agitated. As a cop, I’ve been on the opposite end of this conversation way too many times.
Two doctors come into view, and the look on their faces… I’ve seen it before.
“Mr. Ferrara, can you come into the office with us, please?”
The room starts to spin. “No.” I flare my nostrils to try get a hold of my emotions. “You tell me here.”
“Please, sir.” The female doctor grabs my elbow to lead me into the office, and she closes the door behind us.
I clench my hands at my sides as I brace myself.
“I’m sorry, sir, but your father didn’t make it.”
I stare at her.
“The impact of the car accident caused massive head injuries. He died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. They did everything they could to try and save him but in the end, it wasn’t enough. Please have comfort in knowing he wasn’t in any pain.”
My brows rise by themselves as I grab the wall to support myself.
“Your grandfather is in critical condition in the intensive care unit.”
I stare at the floor through my tears as my throat begins to close up.
He didn’t make it.
No.
Papa.
“Would you like us to contact the rest of your family for you?”
“No.” I close my eyes as I try to regain some strength. “I’ll tell them. They’re on their way.” I put my head into my hands.
Papa.
“Would you like to see your grandfather?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Give me a moment, please?” I whisper as tears well in my eyes.
“If there’s anything we can do.”
“Leave me alone!” I snap angrily.
The door quietly clicks closed, and I screw my face up to fight the tears. I tip my head back to the ceiling. “No, Papa… no.”
Then, I lose all control.
My beloved father… gone.
No.
I slide down the wall and sit on the floor in a crumpled heap as my new, dark reality begins to sink in.
My Papa.
I stare at the wall through tears…this can’t be happening.
Three hours later, the sound of the heart monitor feels somewhat comforting.
Beep…
Beep…
Beep…
I stare at my grandfather Stefano’s black and blue face. He is unrecognizable.
The doctors are coming and going. They don’t think he’s going to make it.
I can tell by the language they’re using. It’s already past tense.
My mother, grandmother, and Francesca will be here in two or three hours.
How do I tell them?
How in the hell do you tell someone that their husband of forty years has died?
They loved each other… so much.
And my beautiful baby sister—the apple of her father’s eye.
The tears well again as I imagine her heart when I tell her he’s gone.
“Mr. Ferrara,” the nurse says softly.
I turn to her, dazed.
“Your grandfather has a visitor. He said he needs to see him as a matter of life and death.”
I frown. “Who is it?”
“He said he is your father’s best friend. His name is Marcello. He happens to be in Rome by chance.”
I stand. “Yes, of course. Let him in.”
She goes outside and returns with the man following her, and my face falls.
“Hello, Enrico.”
I frown.
He bends, kisses my grandfather on each cheek, and he begins to cry.
“Stefano. Stefano, no, no. You fight, do you hear me? You fight. We need you,” he whispers. He drops to his knees and begins to pray.
I watch him as the tectonic plates in my entire existence begin to shift.
I know who he is.
Every policeman in Italy knows who he is.
What the fuck is he doing here?
Marcello Baroni is a hitman—the darkest of dark criminals.
“How do you know my grandfather?” I ask.
His eyes rise to meet mine. “He’s my boss, Enrico.” Our eyes are locked. “He’s the boss.”
“Liar,” I whisper. “Get out. Get out.” I walk to the door and open it in a rush to see the ICU waiting room full of men in suits. My eyes roam to them, every one a familiar face.