Chapter 4 - The Price of Hope
Dr. Shah scheduled surgery for twelve days later.
Sebastian wanted it sooner.
I wanted it never.
That contradiction made no sense, but fear rarely does.
The sniper had vanished. Vittorio had not surfaced. Every lead ended in shell companies, dead addresses, and men who had been paid in cash.
Meanwhile, Sebastian kept improving.
Not enough to walk.
Enough to make walking imaginable.
He could now activate several muscles in his left leg on command. His right side remained inconsistent. Sensation had begun to appear in scattered areas below his waist.
One afternoon, I tested light touch along his calf.
"Anything?"
"No."
I moved lower.
"Here?"
His eyes flickered.
"Maybe."
"Maybe is not data."
"Then yes."
"Pressure?"
"Warmth."
I looked up.
He was staring at me instead of his leg.
"Sebastian."
"What?"
"Focus."
"I am."
"No, you're flirting."
"Is that medically prohibited?"
"With me? Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I'm your therapist."
"So fire yourself."
I laughed despite myself.
He smiled.
Then Oliver burst into the room holding a model rocket.
"Mr. Sebastian! We need baking soda."
The moment shattered.
Sebastian looked disappointed.
I was relieved.
Mostly.
Oliver had become attached to him.
That scared me more than my own feelings.
My son had already lost one father.
My ex-husband, Daniel, had not died.
Sometimes I wished he had.
He left two years after Oliver became sick, saying he "couldn't live inside a hospital schedule." He moved to Arizona with a woman from his office and sent birthday cards when he remembered.
Oliver never complained.
Children learn too early which absences they are allowed to name.
Sebastian seemed to understand.
He never promised Oliver anything.
He simply showed up.
For homework.
For telescope nights.
For ridiculous rocket experiments that terrified the house staff.
Then Daniel called.
I almost didn't answer.
"Claire."
"What do you want?"
"I heard Oliver was living at a Lombardi property."
My blood chilled.
"Who told you?"
"So it's true."
"That is none of your business."
"He's my son."
"You haven't seen him in nine months."
"That doesn't mean I want him around organized crime."
I walked into the hallway so Oliver would not hear.
"Where did you get this information?"
Daniel avoided the question.
Then he said, "I want custody."
I laughed.
He did not.
"You're serious."
"My attorney says I have grounds."
"Because I'm treating a patient?"
"Because you're living in a property controlled by a known criminal figure."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"Daniel, listen carefully. If you are doing this because someone paid you—"
"I'm doing this because you're reckless."
The line went dead.
I found Sebastian in the library.
He took one look at my face.
"What happened?"
I told him.
The temperature in the room dropped.
"Give me his address."
"No."
"Claire."
"No."
"He threatened your custody."
"With a lawyer. Not a gun."
"He is being used."
"I know."
"Then let me find out by whom."
"You can investigate. Quietly."
He raised an eyebrow.
"No disappearing people."
His mouth flattened.
"You make my life unnecessarily restrictive."
"Good."
Gabriel traced Daniel's recent finances.
Two months earlier, he had received ninety thousand dollars through a consulting company connected to one of Vittorio's old shell networks.
Sebastian wanted to confront him.
I insisted on doing it legally.
We gave the evidence to my attorney.
For once, Sebastian obeyed.
Mostly.
Then Daniel came to Chicago.
He appeared outside Oliver's school.
I saw him before Oliver did.
"Daniel."
He looked older than I remembered.
Nervous.
"Claire, we need to talk."
"You need to leave."
"I made a mistake."
My body went cold.
"What did you do?"
He looked toward a black sedan across the street.
"I thought they just wanted information."
"Who?"
"I never met the real guy. A man named Russo contacted me. He asked where Oliver went to school, what medications he took, where you were staying."
I slapped him.
Hard.
He accepted it.
"You gave strangers our son's medical information?"
"I didn't know—"
"You always know after it's too late."
His eyes filled.
"They said they could get custody away from you. They said Sebastian was dangerous."
"You sold us."
"I was scared."
"No. You were paid."
He looked away.
Then he whispered, "They asked about the surgery."
My heart stopped.
"What surgery?"
"Lombardi's."
"How would you know about that?"
"They told me."
I stepped closer.
"What did they ask?"
"Which hospital. What day."
A car door opened across the street.
Daniel's face changed.
"Claire."
I turned.
A man in a gray coat began walking toward us.
His hand disappeared beneath his jacket.
Everything happened at once.
Daniel shoved me behind a parked car.
Gunshots cracked.
Parents screamed.
Security rushed from the school.
The man in gray fell.
Daniel collapsed beside me.
Blood spread across his shirt.
"Daniel!"
He grabbed my sleeve.
"Oliver?"
"He's inside. He's safe."
His face twisted with relief.
"Good."
He survived.
Barely.
The bullet missed his heart.
At the hospital, police found a phone in the dead attacker's pocket.
One unsent message remained open.
If Bennett talks, remove the father too.
Sebastian arrived thirty minutes later.
He did not enter the room.
He waited outside because I had asked him not to frighten Daniel.
When I came into the hall, he stood from his chair using his arms against the railing.
Not truly standing.
Not yet.
But high enough that our faces were almost level.
"Oliver?"
"Safe."
"You?"
"Fine."
He touched my cheek.
There was blood on my coat.
Daniel's blood.
Sebastian's expression broke.
"I can't do this."
I stiffened.
"What?"
"I cannot be the reason someone shoots at you."
"You're not."
"My family is."
"That isn't the same thing."
"It feels the same."
He lowered himself back into the chair.
The distance between us returned instantly.
"I am canceling the surgery."
"No."
"It's already done."
"Why?"
"Because Vittorio wants me afraid of standing. Fine. I won't give him a target."
I stared at him.
"You think staying in that chair keeps us safe?"
"It removes his motive."
"No. It gives him exactly what he wants."
Sebastian looked away.
I knelt in front of him.
"Twenty years ago, they stole a choice from you. Don't hand them another one."
His jaw trembled.
"I don't care about walking more than I care about you and Oliver."
The words left us both silent.
I put my hands on his.
"Then let us care about you too."
He looked at me.
I had never seen Sebastian Lombardi cry.
He did not cry then.
But his eyes came close.
The surgery remained scheduled.
That night, Gabriel received a call from an unknown number.
May you like
A man's voice said only one sentence.
"If Sebastian enters that operating room, the boy stops breathing."
