Chapter 8 - THE HOSPITAL WARD
The sun was coming up over Manhattan by the time we returned to the city.
We didn't go back to the townhouse.
Adrian directed the convoy straight to St. Vincent’s Hospital.
The lobby was completely empty, save for the two massive security guards stationed at the front doors.
Marcus walked beside me, holding Leo in his arms. The boy had fallen asleep against his father’s shoulder the moment we got in the car.
We walked down the long, sterile hallway to Room 412.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
I pushed the door open.
My mother was sitting up in bed.
She looked frail, her silver hair pulled back into a messy braid. Her eyes were clouded with the fog of dementia that I had grown so used to over the last three years.
But when the door opened, and she saw Marcus standing there, something changed.
The fog lifted.
Her eyes widened, filling with sudden, crystal-clear recognition.
“Marcus,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Marcus stepped into the room. Tears spilled over his scarred cheeks.
He walked to the edge of the bed and fell to his knees, burying his face in the blankets near her hand.
“You made it,” my mother cried softly, resting her frail hand on his dark hair. “I told them... I told them the devil wouldn't keep you.”
I stood in the doorway, crying silently.
Adrian stepped up behind me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me back against him.
“She tried to save him,” Adrian whispered in my ear. “Your mother fought my uncle’s men that night. She took a blow to the head trying to get Marcus to the car.”
I gasped, looking back at him.
“That’s why her memory started failing,” Adrian explained gently. “It wasn’t just age, Hannah. It was trauma. She sacrificed her own mind to try and save my brother.”
I pressed my hands over my mouth, the weight of my mother’s bravery crushing me.
All those years she worked as a seamstress in Queens, raising me on pennies, hiding from the world... she was hiding to protect me from the Syndicate.
Marcus looked up, wiping his face.
He gently nudged Leo awake.
The sleepy boy rubbed his eyes and looked at the old woman in the bed.
“Leo,” Marcus said softly. “This is Elena. She’s the reason I’m here.”
Leo looked at my mother, then reached into his small pocket.
He pulled out a small, folded piece of paper and handed it to her.
It was another crayon drawing.
A picture of a hospital bed, a boy, and an angel with silver hair.
My mother took the paper, her hands shaking, and pressed it to her chest.
“He’s beautiful,” she whispered to Marcus.
Adrian squeezed my waist.
“She’s not staying here,” Adrian said aloud, stepping into the room.
My mother looked up, startled by his commanding voice.
Adrian walked to the foot of her bed.
“Elena,” Adrian said, his voice dropping into a tone of deep, unwavering respect. “My name is Adrian Romano. And as long as I draw breath, you will never spend another night in a facility.”
My mother blinked. “But the bills—”
“Are paid,” Adrian said. “In full. For the rest of your life. I am moving you into the private east wing of my estate. You will have round-the-clock private care, a garden overlooking the city, and anything else you could ever desire.”
He looked back at me.
“Because your daughter is going to be very busy helping me run this family.”
My breath hitched.
My mother looked from Adrian to me, a knowing, gentle smile spreading across her face.
“She’s a good girl,” my mother said softly.
“She’s the best woman I’ve ever known,” Adrian corrected.
For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like a struggling maid. I didn't feel like a girl drowning in bills and fear.
I felt safe.
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“Let’s go home,” Adrian said, holding his hand out to me.
I took it.
