Chapter 2 - THE WORDS HE HEARD IN THE DARK
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Then Vanessa laughed.
It was a strange sound, brittle and high-pitched.
“Alessandro, darling, you're confused.”
He didn't look at her.
His fingers tightened around mine.
“Out.”
Vanessa blinked.
“What?”
His voice scraped against his damaged throat.
“Get. Out.”
I reached for the call button.
“Mr. Rossi, you need to conserve your strength.”
He looked at me.
“Emily.”
My breath caught.
I hadn't introduced myself since he opened his eyes.
He knew my name.
Vanessa stared between us.
“How does he know your name?”
I didn't answer.
Alessandro did.
“She told me.”
His breathing became uneven.
I checked the monitor.
“That's enough talking.”
Vanessa stepped closer.
“Alessandro, whatever you think you heard—”
His eyes sharpened.
“Heard?”
Her mouth closed.
I looked at her.
Something in her expression frightened me more than her earlier insults.
Recognition.
She understood what he was implying.
Alessandro had been unconscious.
But perhaps not entirely unaware.
Dr. Samuel Bennett entered with two nurses.
We assessed Alessandro's neurological status and checked his vital signs.
He was weak, exhausted, and recovering from a serious injury.
But he recognized his surroundings.
He knew his name.
He knew the date within a few days.
And he knew exactly who Vanessa was.
“I'm your fiancée,” she insisted.
Alessandro closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
He opened them again.
“Because you said I wouldn't wake up.”
The room went cold.
Vanessa stepped backward.
“That isn't true.”
Alessandro's gaze remained steady.
“You said it.”
I felt my pulse quicken.
He turned toward me.
“Tuesday.”
I leaned closer.
“What happened Tuesday?”
His lips barely moved.
“She came with someone.”
Vanessa made a small sound.
“Alessandro—”
He looked directly at her.
“And they talked about the docks.”
Dr. Bennett asked Vanessa to leave while we continued the examination.
She protested.
Then threatened the hospital.
Then demanded to speak with its director.
But she left.
Once the room was quiet, Alessandro looked at me again.
“Emily.”
“Yes?”
“Don't trust my brother.”
I stared at him.
“Your brother?”
His eyes closed.
“Matteo.”
The monitor beeped steadily.
He whispered one final sentence before exhaustion pulled him back into sleep.
“He knew where I'd be.”
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And suddenly, the shooting that nearly killed Chicago's most feared man no longer looked like an attack by a rival family.
It looked like betrayal from inside his own home.
