Chapter 5

Two hours later, the doors to the emergency corridor slammed open.

Covered in sweat, gunpowder, and blood, Rocco charged down the hospital corridor, sprinting straight for me.

"Gwen!"

"How's Tessy?"

Even his voice was trembling. He reached out to grab my shoulders.

But before his hands could touch me, Carmela, trailing behind him, suddenly crumpled to the floor.

"Rocco..."

"I can't breathe. Elio just threw up again, and he won't stop screaming. Please, can you go back to the ward and stay with him?"

Carmela gripped the hem of Rocco's bloodstained shirt, tears streaming down her face.

It was a manipulative performance she had perfected.

Every time she cried, Rocco would relent.

But this time, Rocco froze.

He looked down at Carmela's fingers gripping his shirt and violently shook her off.

"Get the hell off me!"

"My daughter is in there fighting for her life!"

Carmela was thrown against the wall. She screamed, and the nurses in the hallway and a few waiting families all turned their heads.

She took the opportunity to writhe on the ground, wailing loudly.

Even furious, Rocco's steps were hindered by her heart-wrenching cries.

At that moment, the attending physician, Dr. Halstead, walked up to me holding a medical chart.

He paused, his voice heavy.

"Dr. Marchetti, the combination of severe oxygen deprivation from the smoke and the acute shock from the shootout has caused her brain's language center to trigger a defensive shutdown."

"In layman's terms, it's severe, trauma-induced aphasia. She has temporarily lost the ability to speak."

The entire corridor went silent.

Even Carmela, who was throwing a tantrum on the floor, was shocked enough to stop her dry sobs.

Rocco froze as if struck by lightning. His pupils shrank to pinpricks, his lips trembling.

"What did you say..."

"What exactly does this mean?"

"What do you mean she can't make a sound?"

"My daughter... She's the smartest girl. She was reading me bedtime stories just last week."

Halstead ignored him, handing the chart directly to me.

I took it and signed my name. My eyes were dry. I didn't shed a single tear.

Holding the medical records, I turned and walked toward the ward.

Rocco panicked, chasing after me and blocking my way.

"Gwen, you can hit me, you can curse at me, you can even stab me with a knife!"

"I deserve to die!"

"I thought the armored car was just around the corner. I thought it would be completely in time to shove them into the car and come back to save her..."

I stopped in my tracks, tilting my head up and scrutinizing him coldly.

I offered no hysterical accusations, nor did I utter a single curse.

I just walked past him, pushed open the door to the ward, and locked it from the inside, right in his face.

Silence was the cruelest verdict.

Rocco was shut out.

He pressed his face to the small window in the door, his eyes fixed on his daughter in the bed.

Wearing an oxygen mask, Tessy slowly opened her eyes and saw Rocco through the glass.

Rocco tapped rhythmically on the glass, his mouth forming her name over and over.

Tessy didn't cry. There was no expression on her face.

She looked at him for two seconds.

Then, she slowly turned her head away and closed her eyes.

In her small world, her father was already dead and buried.

Rocco slid down the door to the floor, covering his face with his hands as his shoulders shook with silent, violent sobs.

Right then, his phone rang.

It was the Consigliere. The family had suffered a massive drive-by, and as the capo of the district, he had to go to a meeting immediately to plan their bloody revenge.

Bound by the family's code, Rocco had to leave. Seeing this, Carmela hastily scrambled up and followed him.

The second he stepped into the elevator, I pressed the call button in the ward.

"This is Dr. Marchetti. Process my daughter's discharge paperwork immediately."

"You heard me right. Right now."

I had everything handled within half an hour.

As an attending physician, I knew all the shortcuts in this hospital.

I had Halstead erase Tessy's admission records from the system, cancelled her local insurance files, and contacted a firm to seal and transfer her academic records from the private school.

At 2:00 AM, holding Tessy, I boarded an interstate flight to the West Coast.

Sitting by the window, Tessy watched the runway lights slipping backward outside.

A thin layer of condensation clouded the window.

Tessy raised a small finger and traced a large X through the fog.

Once finished, she rested her head on my shoulder and fell asleep.

This absurd father-daughter bond was officially, finally, severed.

At 7:00 AM.

Rocco, reeking of blood after dealing with the gang shootout, rushed back to the hospital with bloodshot eyes.

He pushed open the door to the ward. It was empty. The bed had been stripped, the sheets piled in a laundry cart.

No me. No Tessy.

There was only a young nurse cleaning up the IV tubes and gauze left from the night before.

"Where did they go?"

"Who took my wife and daughter away?!"

Rocco grabbed the nurse's wrist, nearly lifting her off the ground.

The nurse couldn't break free and reached back to press the call button.

In a state of panic, Rocco reached into his suit jacket, pulled out his gun, and pressed the muzzle against her temple, his eyes bloodshot.

"Talk! Where did they go?"

The nurse turned pale with terror and stammered, "Dr. Marchetti discharged the child early this morning. You're too late, sir."