Chapter 7 - THE BLUE COAT
We spent the rest of the night at a private, heavily guarded clinic owned by a trusted associate of the Moretti family.
I didn't leave Vincent’s side. Using the clinic’s equipment, I administered a massive dose of binding agents and fluids to flush the remaining neurotoxin from his system.
By sunrise, the danger had passed.
Vincent was sitting up in a hospital bed, looking exhausted but alive. Leo was curled up asleep beside him, his small hand gripping Vincent’s shirt as if afraid his father would vanish if he let go.
Isabella sat in the corner, holding a cup of untouched coffee. She looked at me, her eyes red and swollen.
“You could have run, Hannah,” Isabella said quietly. “When Gabriel gave you the keys. You could have just kept driving.”
I paused while adjusting Vincent’s IV bag. “My dad always told me you don't walk away from a patient in the dark.”
Vincent looked at me. The harsh, calculating mob boss was completely gone. The man looking at me now was just a grateful father.
“Your father raised a good woman,” Vincent said softly. He reached over to the bedside table and picked up a heavy, cream-colored envelope. He held it out to me.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Your employment agreement was for two weeks,” Vincent said. “You finished early. That’s your severance.”
I took the envelope. It was thick. I opened the flap and looked inside.
My breath caught in my throat.
It was a cashier’s check. Issued by a private bank. The amount written on the line was one million dollars.
I dropped the envelope on the bed as if it had burned me. “I can’t take this, Vincent. This is... this is too much. I’m just a nurse.”
“You saved my son,” Vincent said firmly. “You saved my mother. You gave me my life back. That money will pay for the best care facility in the country for your father. And it will buy you a house. A nice one. In a safe neighborhood.”
I looked at the check, tears blurring my vision. All the sleepless nights, the panic attacks over bills, the fear of losing my father to a cheap nursing home—it was all gone in a single piece of paper.
“Take it, Hannah,” Isabella said softly, walking over and placing her hand on my shoulder. “Please. Let us do this one good thing.”
I slowly picked up the envelope, clutching it to my chest. “Thank you.”
Just then, Gabriel walked into the room. His arm was in a sling from the gunshot wound, but he looked remarkably calm.
“Boss,” Gabriel said, nodding at Vincent. “The cleanup crew finished at the cemetery. Whitmore’s associates in New York have been informed of his passing. They’ve agreed to a truce. With Whitmore gone, they have no leverage.”
Vincent nodded slowly. He stroked Leo’s hair. “And my mother?”
“Resting comfortably in the suite downstairs,” Gabriel replied. “Her vitals are stabilizing now that she’s off Whitmore’s cocktail.”
It was over. The nightmare was actually over.
I packed up my medical bag. I took off my scrubs and changed back into my street clothes.
When I walked out to the clinic’s lobby, Gabriel was waiting by the front doors.
“I have a car waiting to take you home, Miss Cole,” he said.
I smiled at him. “You don't have to call me Miss Cole anymore, Gabriel. Hannah is fine.”
Gabriel almost smiled. Almost. “Have a good life, Hannah.”
I walked out into the crisp, cool morning air of Chicago. The storm had passed, leaving the city washed clean. The sun was rising over the skyline, casting a golden glow over the streets.
I got into the waiting town car.
As we drove away, I looked down at the seat next to me.
Sitting there, neatly folded, was Leo’s bright blue winter coat.
I reached out and touched the soft fabric. It was a reminder of the darkest night of my life, and the greatest thing I had ever done.
May you like
I took out my phone and dialed the number for my father’s nursing facility.
“Hello? This is Hannah Cole,” I said, tears of joy streaming down my face. “I need to speak to the director. I’m moving my father. Today.”
