Chapter 3 - The Hospital Hallway
Saint Agnes Hospital smelled exactly the way I remembered.
Antiseptic.
Coffee.
Plastic.
Fear.
The moment I walked through the emergency entrance, my body reacted before my mind could stop it. My chest tightened. My hands went cold. Every flashing monitor sounded like a warning from another life.
Leo’s life.
I stopped in the hallway.
Dominic noticed.
His men had formed a quiet wall around us, but he stepped away from them and looked at me.
“You all right?”
“No.”
It was honest.
His expression changed slightly.
Not softer, exactly.
More human.
“My son died here,” I said before I could stop myself.
Dominic looked toward the double doors where the doctors had taken Matteo.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t know.”
“No,” he said. “But I know what it means to stand outside a room and wait for someone to tell you whether your whole life has ended.”
I looked at him.
That was not something I expected Dominic Moretti to understand.
A nurse approached us. “Mr. Moretti?”
Dominic straightened immediately.
“Your son is stabilized,” she said. “The emergency team cleared his airway, and they’re treating him for possible ingestion. The doctor will speak with you shortly.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
The feared crime boss. The man whose name made servers whisper and bodyguards stand straighter.
He looked like a father who had almost lost his child.
“What was in the tablet?” he asked.
“We don’t know yet,” the nurse said. “The police have been notified. We’ll run toxicology and continue monitoring him.”
When she left, Dominic stood very still.
Then he turned to one of his men.
“Find out who had access to Matteo tonight.”
The man nodded.
“Every person,” Dominic continued. “Staff. Security. Kitchen. Drivers. Everyone.”
“Already working on it.”
“And Luca?”
“He’s in custody.”
“Good.”
His men walked away.
I should have left then.
I had no reason to stay.
But I stayed because I knew what it felt like to be alone in a hospital hallway. I knew what it meant when every minute became a sentence you had to survive.
Dominic sat in a chair near the pediatric wing.
I sat three seats away.
Neither of us spoke for a while.
Finally, he said, “You were in nursing school.”
I looked at him sharply.
“How do you know that?”
“You used the correct positioning. You knew what to look for.”
“I was halfway through my program.”
“Why did you quit?”
I stared at the floor.
“My son was born with a heart defect. He spent most of his life in hospitals.” My voice was flat because that was the only way I could say it. “After he died, I couldn’t go back.”
Dominic said nothing.
That silence was kinder than sympathy.
Then a doctor appeared.
“Mr. Moretti?”
Dominic stood so fast the chair nearly tipped.
“Your son is going to be okay,” the doctor said. “He’ll need observation, but his breathing has improved. The medication was a sedative. In a newborn, even a small amount can be extremely dangerous.”
Dominic’s face became unreadable.
“A sedative,” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“Could it have been an accident?”
The doctor hesitated.
“Given the circumstances reported by EMS, I would be concerned that it was intentional.”
I felt cold all over.
Intentional.
Someone had looked at a helpless newborn and made a choice.
Dominic thanked the doctor, but his voice had turned quiet again.
That dangerous quiet.
When the doctor left, Dominic looked toward the hospital window. Chicago glittered beyond the glass, a city of hard edges, frozen streets, and people who survived by knowing when not to ask questions.
Then he looked at me.
“Someone tried to kill my son.”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
“And they did it inside my restaurant.”
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened.
“I need you to remember everything you saw.”
“I already told the police.”
“I know. I’m not asking you to lie.”
“Then what are you asking?”
Dominic stepped closer.
“I’m asking you to help me find the person who did this before they try again.”
I stared at him.
“I’m a waitress.”
“No,” he said. “You’re the woman who saw what everyone else missed.”
The doors to the pediatric unit opened.
A nurse appeared.
“Mr. Moretti, you can see Matteo now.”
Dominic took one step toward the door.
Then he paused.
“Claire,” he said, “don’t disappear.”
I watched him walk into the room where his son was alive.
Then I looked down at my hands.
May you like
For the first time since Leo died, I wondered whether walking away from nursing had been a mistake.
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