Chapter 9 - THE HEALING TOUCH
My mother’s frail hand gripped the edge of the blanket, her eyes darting between me and Luca with absolute terror. She tried to sit up, but the lingering weakness from her stroke kept her pinned to the bed.
“Emily,” my mother managed to croak, the left side of her mouth struggling to form the word. “Run.”
I immediately rushed to her bedside and took her trembling hands in mine.
“No, Mom, it’s okay!” I said quickly, tears blurring my vision. “You don't need to be afraid. He’s not here to hurt us. He’s here to thank you.”
My mother blinked, her rapid breathing slowing just a fraction. She looked at Luca, who had stopped at the foot of the bed, giving her space.
Luca slowly removed his suit jacket and draped it over a chair. He walked around the bed and stood beside me.
With a gentleness I hadn't expected, the terrifying mafia boss bowed his head slightly to the frail woman in the bed.
“Mrs. Carter,” Luca said, his deep voice incredibly soft. “My name is Luca Moretti. And I am entirely in your debt.”
My mother stared at him, bewildered. “Vanessa...?”
“Vanessa is in federal custody,” Luca told her. “She will never hurt you, or your daughter, ever again. The Falcone family has been destroyed.”
A profound, staggering relief washed over my mother’s face. The tension that had held her fragile body hostage for eight long months evaporated in a single heartbeat. She closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering sigh, and squeezed my hand tightly.
“Catherine?” my mother whispered, opening her eyes again. “Did she… did she make it?”
Luca offered a sad, beautiful smile. “She made it. She came home tonight. Because of the evidence you preserved for five years, Catherine is free. And my daughter is safe.”
Tears spilled down my mother’s cheeks. She looked at me, her eyes shining with pride.
“You told him,” my mother said to me.
“Emily did more than tell me,” Luca corrected quietly. He looked at me, the warmth in his dark eyes making my stomach flutter. “She stood up to a room full of monsters to protect my family. She took a bullet meant for me.”
My mother gasped, her grip on my hand tightening painfully. “A bullet? Emily!”
“I’m fine, Mom, I promise,” I soothed her, stroking her hair. “Luca protected me. We’re both safe.”
Luca stepped closer to the bed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy, black leather checkbook. He borrowed a pen from the nurse’s station tray on the table and quickly wrote out a figure that made my head spin.
He tore the check off and gently placed it on my mother’s bedside table.
“This hospital is inadequate for your recovery,” Luca said firmly. “Tomorrow morning, a private ambulance will transfer you to the Moretti Foundation’s premier rehabilitation facility. You will have round-the-clock private care, physical therapy, and the best neurologists in the country. Your medical bills are paid for the rest of your life.”
My mother looked at the check, then up at Luca, completely overwhelmed.
“Mr. Moretti… I can’t accept this,” she whispered. “I only did my job as a nurse.”
“You did far more than your job,” Luca insisted gently. “You protected my wife when I couldn't. This isn't a gift, Mrs. Carter. It’s restitution.”
My mother looked at me, seeking permission. I nodded through my tears, overwhelmed by his generosity.
For the first time in nearly a year, I didn't feel the crushing, suffocating weight of medical debt and fear pressing down on my chest. I felt like I could finally breathe.
We stayed at the hospital for another hour, sitting by my mother’s bed until the exhaustion finally pulled her into a deep, peaceful sleep.
When we walked back out to the waiting SUV, the Chicago sky was beginning to turn a bruised purple, the first hint of dawn breaking over the city skyline.
Luca opened the car door for me, but before I stepped inside, I stopped.
I turned to him in the quiet, empty hospital parking lot.
“Luca,” I said softly.
He looked down at me, the cool morning breeze ruffling his dark hair. “Yes, Emily?”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “For my mother. For everything tonight.”
Luca reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered against my cheek, warm and calloused.
“You don't ever have to thank me, Emily,” Luca murmured. “I spend my life surrounding myself with people who want my money or my power. Tonight, I realized the only person in my house who truly cared about us was the woman scrubbing the floors.”
He leaned in closer, his dark eyes searching mine.
“I told Catherine I would take care of the light in my house,” Luca whispered, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips. “And I always keep my promises.”
Before I could reply, the heavy silence of the parking lot was broken by the sound of the SUV’s engine turning over. The driver was ready.
Luca stepped back, offering a small, breathtaking smile. “Let’s go home, Emily.”
Home.
May you like
The word echoed in my mind as I climbed into the car. For eleven months, the Moretti mansion had been a prison, a place of humiliation and fear.
But as we drove back toward the estate, watching the sunrise paint the city in gold, I realized it didn't feel like a prison anymore.
