Chapter 4 - THE MAN WHO OPENED HIS EYES
Dominic Moretti wanted Lorenzo transferred.
Immediately.
“To a specialized facility.”
Isabella stood in the foyer.
“No.”
Dominic smiled.
“You run a house.”
“And you run companies.”
“Yes.”
“Neither of us practices neurology.”
Dr. Cole stepped forward.
“My patient stays.”
That settled nothing.
Lawyers arrived.
Documents.
Arguments.
Board clauses.
Medical authority.
For six hours, the estate stopped feeling like a mansion and became a courtroom with furniture.
I stayed downstairs.
Then at 8:14 that evening, Elena came running.
Not walking.
Running.
“Isabella.”
Everyone looked.
“He opened his eyes.”
Silence.
Dominic's face did something strange.
Just once.
Fear.
I saw it.
So did Isabella.
Upstairs, Lorenzo was awake for eleven seconds.
Not fully oriented.
No speech.
Then twenty-three seconds.
Then a minute.
Dr. Cole asked his name.
No answer.
Asked whether he knew where he was.
Blink.
Asked him to look toward Elena.
He did.
Hours passed.
At 2:30 a.m., Lorenzo opened his eyes again.
This time:
“How…”
Barely a voice.
Elena leaned closer.
“How what?”
His throat worked.
“How long?”
“Fifty-two days since the accident.”
His face changed.
Then:
“Dominic?”
Elena went still.
Dr. Cole answered.
“He's downstairs.”
Lorenzo tried to move.
Couldn't.
Panic immediately appeared.
Elena touched his forearm.
“Don't fight your body.”
He looked terrified.
Not mafia-boss terrified.
Human terrified.
Then he whispered:
“Car.”
Isabella entered.
“Lorenzo.”
His eyes moved toward her.
“The car.”
“What?”
He struggled.
“Mateo.”
Everyone stopped.
Isabella leaned closer.
“Mateo Reyes?”
Lorenzo closed his eyes once.
Yes.
Downstairs, I knew none of it.
I was pouring myself coffee when Isabella appeared.
“Clara.”
Something about her face made me put the cup down.
“What?”
“Mr. Moretti spoke.”
Relief came first.
Then:
“He said Mateo's name.”
The room tilted.
“My Mateo?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He hasn't been able to explain.”
I backed into the counter.
Eleven months after burying my husband, an unconscious stranger had awakened and said his name.
“Take me upstairs.”
“No.”
My head snapped up.
“Isabella.”
“He is medically unstable.”
“I don't care.”
“I do.”
She stepped closer.
“And so should you.”
I hated her in that moment.
Then she said:
“When he can speak safely, you will hear the answer from him.”
I waited thirty-six hours.
It felt like thirty-six years.
When Lorenzo could finally speak more than a few words, Elena came downstairs.
“He asked for you.”
I entered the forbidden room for the first time.
Machines remained.
Lorenzo looked nothing like the photographs I'd seen online.
Thin.
Bruised.
Weak.
His voice rough.
But his eyes—
awake.
He looked at me for a long time.
“Clara Reyes?”
“Yes.”
“Mateo's wife.”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
May you like
Then whispered:
“He tried to warn me.”
