Chapter 5 - The Night Alfonso Stopped Breathing
Alfonso’s heart stopped at 1:17 a.m.
Adeline reached him first.
Everything else disappeared.
The gunshots.
The guards.
The blood on Enzo’s cheek from shattered glass.
She became a nurse.
“Call emergency services!”
She began compressions.
Enzo stood at the foot of the bed.
He had faced armed men without blinking.
Now he looked terrified.
“Enzo,” Adeline snapped.
His eyes found hers.
“Talk to him.”
“What?”
“Talk to him!”
Enzo moved beside the bed.
“Grandfather.”
Nothing.
Adeline continued.
“Again.”
“Grandfather, stay with me.”
The monitor remained merciless.
Enzo gripped Alfonso’s hand.
“You don’t get to choose my wife and disappear before I can complain about her.”
Adeline almost laughed through tears.
“Again.”
“Wake up.”
Shock delivered.
Nothing.
Enzo bent closer.
“You promised me one more birthday.”
Then the monitor changed.
One beat.
Another.
A rhythm.
Weak.
But present.
Alfonso lived.
At the hospital, Enzo sat beside Adeline until dawn.
Neither spoke much.
At five, he noticed blood on her palm.
Glass had cut her.
He cleaned it himself.
“You have people for this,” she whispered.
“So do you.”
She understood.
Neither wanted anyone else.
When he finished wrapping her hand, Adeline looked at him.
“Why did your mother die?”
Enzo remained still.
Then he told her.
He had been twenty.
A gunman entered the private hospital where Antonio Marquetti was recovering from an attack.
Enzo’s mother, Margaret, had been working there as a nurse despite marrying into immense wealth.
She saw the gun first.
She pushed Enzo behind a medication cart.
The bullet meant for him struck her.
Enzo had held her while she died.
His father never recovered.
Neither did Enzo.
“Saving lives,” Adeline said.
He nodded.
“That’s why.”
“Yes.”
She touched his scar.
The movement surprised both of them.
“What happened here?”
“Same night.”
Her fingers remained against his collarbone.
Enzo covered her hand.
Their faces were inches apart.
He gave her time to move away.
She didn’t.
He kissed her.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Nothing about it resembled a bargain.
When they separated, Adeline whispered, “This complicates things.”
“My life was already complicated.”
“You have a council trying to remove you.”
“Yes.”
“An underboss trying to kill your grandfather.”
“Probably.”
“Someone shot at us.”
“Yes.”
“And now you kiss your grandfather’s nurse.”
Enzo considered it.
“That may be the least complicated part.”
She laughed.
Then his phone rang.
Bruno had surfaced.
He wanted a council meeting.
And he claimed he had proof Enzo had fabricated the assassination attempt to avoid surrendering power.
The meeting occurred that evening.
Bruno arrived with attorneys, allies, and copies of financial records.
He accused Enzo of using family money to pay for Nell’s surgery.
Buying Adeline’s loyalty.
Manipulating Alfonso.
The room began turning.
Then Adeline entered.
Enzo had told her not to.
She ignored him.
Again.
Bruno smiled.
“The nurse.”
“My name is Adeline Whitaker.”
She placed her notebook on the table.
Enzo recognized it.
The worn hardbound book she carried everywhere.
“I document every medication I administer, every dose, every time, every irregularity.”
She opened it.
The poisoned medication had been recorded.
So had Bruno’s presence.
So had the bottle’s disappearance.
Then she produced something else.
A tiny pharmacy label she had peeled from the suspicious bottle before it vanished.
The serial number.
Investigators traced it to a private pharmacy controlled by a shell company.
The company belonged to Bruno’s brother-in-law.
The room changed.
Bruno stopped smiling.
“You planned this,” he said.
Adeline looked genuinely confused.
“I’m a nurse. We write things down.”
One councilman laughed.
Bruno exploded.
He lunged across the table.
Enzo caught him.
For the first time, the controlled man lost control.
He drove Bruno against the wall.
“You took Nell.”
Bruno smiled despite the hand at his throat.
“You think this ends with me?”
Enzo froze.
Bruno whispered:
“Your father didn’t die from grief.”
Enzo’s grip loosened.
“What?”
“He found out who ordered the hospital shooting.”
The room fell silent.
Bruno laughed.
“And before he could tell Alfonso, someone made sure Antonio Marquetti never spoke again.”
Enzo’s face became unreadable.
“Who?”
Bruno looked toward the doorway.
A woman stood there.
Elegant.
White-haired.
Holding a cane.
Enzo recognized her instantly.
So did half the council.
Cassandra Bellini’s grandmother.
Eleanor Bellini.
She had been his mother’s closest friend.
May you like
Bruno smiled.
“Ask her.”
