Chapter 1: Room 417
Chapter 1: Room 417
"What happened?"
Anna closed her eyes as another wave of pain rolled through her body.
"I'm at Brooklyn Methodist."
Silence.
Then she heard movement on the other end of the line—drawers slamming, footsteps, a door opening.
"What room?"
"Four seventeen."
"I'm coming."
"Luca..."
"I'm already on my way."
The line went dead.
Twenty-three minutes later, the doors of the medical floor burst open.
Doctors stopped talking.
Security guards straightened instinctively.
Nurses exchanged nervous glances as six men in dark suits stepped into the hallway before silently moving aside.
Then Luca Marino appeared.
No expensive overcoat could hide the panic written across his face.
No cold expression could disguise the sleepless nights that had carved shadows beneath his eyes.
For six months, the king of Lower Manhattan had searched quietly.
He had honored Anna's decision to leave.
He had instructed every investigator under his command to make sure she was alive—but never to approach her.
"If she wants freedom," he had told them, "then freedom is what she'll have."
But every Friday evening, an envelope arrived on his desk.
One page.
She paid rent.
She went to work.
She bought groceries.
She was safe.
That was all he ever allowed himself to know.
Until tonight.
Luca reached Room 417 and stopped.
Anna looked smaller than he remembered.
Her cheeks had grown thinner.
Dark circles rested beneath tired eyes.
The woman who once filled grand ballrooms with effortless elegance now looked fragile beneath a plain hospital blanket.
His chest tightened.
"Anna..."
She managed a weak smile.
"You came."
"I would've crossed an ocean."
His voice cracked before he could stop it.
For the first time in years, Luca Marino forgot how to be feared.
He only remembered how to be terrified.
He pulled the chair beside her bed closer and sat down.
Neither of them spoke for nearly a minute.
Finally, she whispered,
"They found a tumor."
The words punched every ounce of air from his lungs.
"When's the surgery?"
"They don't know what it is yet."
"We'll get the best doctors."
"Luca—"
"The best."
"They're already taking care of me."
"No."
His jaw tightened.
"They're good."
"I'm bringing the people who don't lose."
Anna looked at him for a long moment before quietly asking,
"Do you ever get tired of trying to control everything?"
His eyes lowered.
"I couldn't control you leaving."
The room became painfully still.
Outside, rain tapped softly against the window.
Inside, two people who had loved each other desperately sat only inches apart, separated by six months of silence neither knew how to erase.
Later that evening, the lead surgeon entered.
"We've reviewed the scans."
Luca stood immediately.
"I'm her family."
Anna almost corrected him.
Instead...
She let him stay.
The doctor explained the operation.
The mass appeared operable.
The prognosis was encouraging—but nothing could be guaranteed until pathology returned.
As the doctor left, Luca finally exhaled.
Anna reached across the blanket and gently took his hand.
It was the first time they had touched since she walked away.
His fingers trembled.
"So," she whispered, "the fearless Luca Marino gets scared after all."
He looked at her with exhausted eyes.
"I've never been afraid of dying."
She squeezed his hand.
"I know."
May you like
"I'm afraid of living without you."
Anna looked away before he could see the tears filling her eyes.
