Chapter 2 - THE STRANGER IN THE HOSPITAL BED
When Brielle woke, she smelled antiseptic.
A monitor beeped beside her.
Her head throbbed.
Her right hand was bandaged.
For one terrible moment, she thought she was sixteen again.
Back in the hospital.
Back in the night when her sister had died.
She jerked upright.
Pain tore through her ribs.
“Easy.”
A woman's voice.
Brielle turned.
The silver-haired grandmother sat beside the bed.
Her hands were folded around a small yellow flower.
“You're awake.”
Brielle stared.
“The little girl?”
The woman smiled through tears.
“She's safe.”
Brielle closed her eyes.
“Thank God.”
The woman leaned forward.
“My name is Evelyn Moretti.”
“Brielle Dawson.”
“I know.”
Brielle frowned.
Evelyn smiled gently.
“The hospital asked for your name.”
“Oh.”
She looked around.
“Where am I?”
“Mercy Lakes Medical Center.”
Brielle's stomach tightened.
“I can't afford—”
“Your treatment is being handled.”
Brielle shook her head.
“No. I don't want charity.”
Evelyn studied her.
“Then consider it a debt.”
“A debt?”
“You saved my granddaughter.”
Brielle looked away.
“I just did what anyone should have done.”
Evelyn's expression changed.
“No, dear.”
Her voice softened.
“Most people didn't.”
The door opened.
Dominic Moretti entered.
He wore a dark suit without a tie.
His expression was controlled.
But his eyes looked exhausted.
Brielle recognized him immediately.
The man from the street.
The little girl's father.
He stopped beside the bed.
“Miss Dawson.”
She straightened instinctively.
“Sir.”
He frowned slightly.
“Dominic.”
Brielle nodded.
“Dominic.”
He glanced toward his mother.
“Would you give us a moment?”
Evelyn rose.
Before leaving, she placed the yellow flower on Brielle's bedside table.
“My granddaughter insisted you have this.”
Brielle stared at it.
The petals were bruised.
The stem bent.
But it was still alive.
When Evelyn left, Dominic pulled a chair beside the bed.
He didn't sit immediately.
Instead, he looked at the bandages.
“The doctors say you have a concussion, bruised ribs, and a deep cut across your palm.”
Brielle nodded.
“Sounds about right.”
“You'll recover.”
“Good.”
He sat.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Dominic said:
“You saved my mother and daughter.”
Brielle looked down.
“I didn't know who they were.”
“I know.”
She glanced up.
“Would it have mattered?”
He studied her.
“No.”
Brielle shook her head.
“It wouldn't have.”
Something shifted in his expression.
He leaned back.
“What made you do it?”
Brielle looked toward the window.
She could have told him about her sister.
About the guilt.
About the memory that never left her.
Instead, she said:
“The little girl was scared.”
Dominic nodded slowly.
“And you weren't?”
Brielle laughed without humor.
“I was terrified.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then said:
“That's what makes it courage.”
Brielle swallowed.
“Your daughter. What's her name?”
“Lily.”
She smiled faintly.
“Pretty name.”
Dominic looked toward the flower.
“She wants to see you.”
Brielle's eyes filled unexpectedly.
“Really?”
He nodded.
“She hasn't stopped asking.”
Then his expression hardened.
“But first, I need to ask you something.”
Brielle looked at him.
“Okay.”
“Did any of the men say a name?”
She thought back.
The street.
The shouting.
The gun.
Then she remembered.
One of the attackers had spoken before the fight.
Not to her.
To another man.
A name.
Brielle's breath caught.
“Maybe.”
Dominic leaned forward.
“What name?”
She closed her eyes.
Then whispered:
“Calder.”
May you like
Dominic went completely still.
And Brielle knew immediately that the name meant something terrible.
