Chapter 4 - The Doctor’s Diagnosis
The doctor,
Julian Halloran,
was waiting at the end of the driveway in his sleek black Mercedes,
his bags packed for a flight to a country with no extradition treaty.
He didn't realize that my security team had been replaced by men who were loyal only to the checkbook,
men I had summoned with a single text message from the library.
I walked down the driveway,
dragging Dante by his collar,
the trail of blood marking the path of my family’s final collapse.
When Halloran saw me,
he tried to put the car in reverse,
but a black SUV slammed into his bumper,
pinning him against the stone gate.
I reached into the car and pulled him out by his silk tie,
throwing him onto the gravel beside my cousin.
“The forty-eight hours you gave me,”
I said,
looking down at the man of science who had used his knowledge to murder.
“Was that the time it would take for the sedative to finally stop his heart,
or just the time you needed to clear your accounts?”
Halloran looked at the gun in my hand,
then at the bleeding man beside him,
and his professional composure disintegrated into a mess of pleas and excuses.
“They threatened me!”
he cried,
pointing a trembling finger at Dante.
“They said if I didn't help them,
they would kill my family!”
“You were supposed to be the best,”
I said,
the disappointment heavier than the anger.
“You were the one who delivered him while I was covered in his mother’s blood.”
“And you chose to finish what the bomb started.”
I looked back toward the house,
where Hunter was standing on the balcony,
holding Leo against the rising sun.
She looked like a statue of a goddess,
a guardian who had appeared out of the shadows to save the Rossi legacy.
“Take them to the warehouse,”
I told my men,
turning my back on the traitors.
“I’ll deal with them once my son has finished his next meal.”
I walked back into the house,
the halls no longer feeling haunted by Sophia’s ghost,
but filled with a new,
living purpose.
I climbed the stairs to the nursery and found Hunter sitting in the rocking chair,
the room now flooded with the warm light of dawn.
She looked exhausted,
her eyes dark with the weight of the night,
but she smiled when she saw me.
“He swallowed again,”
she whispered,
“and his color is coming back.”
I sat on the floor beside her,
my hand reaching out to touch Leo’s tiny foot.
For the first time in two months,
I didn't feel the need to destroy something to feel alive.
“You saved him,
Hunter,”
I repeated,
“but you also saved me.”
“I was ready to burn the whole world down to find someone to blame for Sophia.”
“I didn't see what was happening right in front of me because I was too busy looking for a war.”
Hunter reached out and touched my arm,
her hand warm and solid.
“You were a father who was grieving,”
she said,
“and they used that against you.”
“But Leo knows who you are now.”
“He’s waiting for you to be the man he needs him to be.”
I looked at my son,
the child of fire and blood,
and I knew she was right.
The doctor and my cousin were gone,
their names erased from my life,
but the woman in the rocking chair was a part of it now.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small,
gold locket that had belonged to Sophia.
“I want you to stay,”
I said,
placing the locket in Hunter’s hand.
“Not as a maid,
and not as a secret.”
“I want you to be the mother he lost,
and the woman this house deserves.”
Hunter looked at the locket,
then at me,
and the grief in her eyes finally began to lift,
replaced by a hope that was as bright as the morning sun.
“I don't know how to be a Rossi,”
she whispered.
“Then we’ll learn together,”
May you like
I replied,
“one swallow at a time.”
