Chapter 3 - THE AUNT WHO ARRIVED TOO FAST
Elena Rossi entered the salon wearing black.
Not formal-gala black.
Funeral black.
She was forty-one, beautiful in the controlled way expensive people often are.
Sophia flinched.
Very slightly.
I noticed.
Luca noticed me noticing.
“Aunt Elena,” Sophia said.
Elena looked at me first.
Not Sophia.
That told me enough.
“You.”
“Yes.”
“You were supposed to stay away.”
Luca stepped between us.
“Wrong answer.”
Elena's face changed.
“Luca—”
“No.”
He took the old phone from me.
Played the voicemail.
Elena closed her eyes.
When it ended, she said:
“I did what I thought was necessary.”
“For whom?”
“Sophia.”
Luca's voice became terrifyingly calm.
“You told me Hannah died.”
“I believed contact would destabilize Sophia.”
“You told Hannah Sophia forgot her.”
“She needed distance.”
“You intercepted Dr. Benton’s reports.”
Elena looked toward the therapist.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Dr. Benton stood.
“I sent three recommendations for independent neurological testing.”
Elena said nothing.
Luca understood.
“You knew.”
“I knew Sophia was fragile.”
“She walked across a ballroom.”
“Because she saw this woman.”
Elena pointed at me.
“Exactly what I feared.”
Sophia whispered:
“I wasn’t scared.”
Elena turned.
“Sweetheart, you don't understand.”
“Stop saying that.”
Everyone froze.
Sophia’s voice shook.
“You always say I don’t understand.”
Elena softened.
“Sophia—”
“I remember the water.”
Elena went pale.
“I remember Hannah.”
“Sophia.”
“I remember you too.”
That changed everything.
Luca knelt in front of his daughter.
“What do you remember?”
Sophia looked frightened.
“After the hospital.”
“Take your time.”
“Aunt Elena came.”
“Yes.”
“She said Hannah died.”
Luca closed his eyes.
“And?”
“She told me Daddy was hurt.”
“I was.”
“You were in another hospital.”
“Yes.”
Sophia continued.
“She told the nurse not to let me talk about Hannah because it made me upset.”
Elena’s lips tightened.
“Sophia was traumatized.”
Dr. Benton asked:
“Who diagnosed the paralysis?”
“Elena’s physician.”
Luca looked up.
“What?”
Dr. Benton realized.
“Your original neurologist wasn't from Northwestern.”
“No.”
“Who was it?”
“Dr. Felix Romano.”
Matteo swore.
I knew nothing about the name.
Luca did.
Romano was Elena’s personal physician.
And, apparently, a longtime associate of Gabriele Conti.
A pattern was forming.
Luca asked Elena:
“Why Romano?”
“He was available.”
“In a city with five major trauma centers?”
“He understood the family.”
“There.”
“What?”
Luca stood.
“The family.”
His voice sharpened.
“You didn't want doctors. You wanted people you controlled.”
Elena’s expression changed.
“Careful.”
That single word revealed the woman beneath the aunt.
Luca almost smiled.
“Are you threatening me?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He turned to Matteo.
“Independent hospital. Tonight.”
Elena stepped forward.
“You cannot subject Sophia to more testing after everything she’s endured.”
Dr. Benton said:
“She walked.”
“That could be reflexive.”
“Across forty feet?”
Elena had no answer.
Then I noticed something else.
A purse beneath her arm.
Small.
Structured.
Partially open.
Inside was a bottle.
Prescription.
Dr. Benton saw me looking.
“What's that?”
Elena covered the purse.
“Nothing.”
Luca took it.
She grabbed his wrist.
“Don't.”
Everyone stopped.
He looked down at her hand.
She released him.
The bottle label:
Sophia Moretti.
Medication:
Gabapentin.
Dr. Benton frowned.
“I discontinued this eighteen months ago.”
Luca stared.
“What?”
“I told Gabriele the dose was unnecessary and could worsen fatigue and balance.”
Elena said:
“Romano continued it.”
“For why?”
No one answered.
Dr. Benton took the bottle.
“This dose is extremely high for Sophia's weight.”
My stomach tightened.
“Could it stop her walking?”
“Not directly.”
Then she added:
“But sedation, weakness and impaired coordination could make independent movement much harder.”
Luca went white.
Sophia stared at the bottle.
“Aunt Elena gives me those.”
Silence.
“How often?” Dr. Benton asked.
“Every night.”
Luca looked at Elena.
His grief turned into something colder than rage.
“You have ten seconds to explain why you've been giving my daughter medication her therapist discontinued.”
Elena began backing toward the door.
Matteo blocked it.
“Ten.”
“I was protecting her.”
“Nine.”
“Romano said sudden mobility could damage her spine.”
“Eight.”
Dr. Benton said:
“That is medically absurd.”
“Seven.”
Elena snapped:
“Because she wasn't supposed to walk yet!”
Silence.
Luca stopped counting.
I felt every hair rise on my arms.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
Elena realized what she'd said.
Too late.
Then the fire alarm began screaming.
Matteo’s radio exploded with voices.
“Kitchen fire.”
“No, electrical room.”
“Security cameras offline.”
Luca looked at Elena.
She smiled.
May you like
Barely.
And I knew the alarm was not an accident.
