"Tell me, tutor,' I said. 'Is revenge a science, or an art?"
- Mark Lawrence
I sat vigil next to Salvatore's hospital bed, watching him battle for his life in an unconscious state, the steady beeping of life-sustaining machines forming a haunting backdrop to the thoughts churning in my head.
As I wracked my brain trying to make sense of it all, one burning question stubbornly rose to the surface: why did he take a bullet meant for me?
I clung onto his cold, unmoving hand, my heart contracting with every painful pulse. Losing such an honorable and kind man was unthinkable. Though our time together had been short, he had effortlessly shown himself to be genuine and compassionate, and I just wasn't ready to say goodbye.
Leaving his room felt like an agony. Spotting Serafina crumbled on a waiting room chair, her body racking with gut-wrenching sobs, was more than I could bear.
Swamped with guilt, I barely had the courage to meet her gaze as I dropped onto the seat next to her. Words refused to make their way out until, after a torturous silence, I finally managed a quiet apology, "I'm sorry. It's because of me that he's in there."
Serafina turned to face me, her eyes bloodshot from crying. "I never understood why my father took such an interest in you or why he cared so much. And now, sacrificing himself for you just doesn't make any sense. If he'd never met you, he would not be here, clinging to life. This might have never happened." Each word was a blade cutting deep into me.
And she was right. It was true - if Salvatore and I had never met, he might be still be safe with his family, not lying here. If he hadn't cared so deeply or jumped in front of that damn bullet. In one way or another, this was my fault.
"I'm sorry.." I murmured again before storming out, my tears betraying me. It was unbearable.
"Frankie!" Hector called out, catching me before I could leave. "Baby, are you okay?"
"It was all my fault... all my fault!" I sobbed, seeking solace in his sturdy arms. "I bring destruction wherever I go."
"Hey, hey! Quit saying that!" He was quick to console, cradling my face and drawing my tear-streaked face up to meet his eyes. "Listen to me, it's not your fault! You have to understand that. We'd all do anything to keep you safe, and that's just what Salvatore did. He protected you. I'm just glad you're safe."
A sudden, deafening cry ripped through the calm, causing both of us to jump in dread.
Hurrying back inside, where we were met with an agonizing sight. There was Serafina, in absolute turmoil, on her knees with relentless sobs racking through her body. Her face filled with sheer terror, while doctors swarmed Salvatore's room.
"NO! Per favore, non lasciarlo morire! Per favore! Papa! (no! Please, don't let him die! Please!)" Serafina was begging through her sobs, her body shaking as Carlo tried to comfort her.
I barely noticed Hector quietly slip away as my own dread filled me. Without waiting, I burst into Salvatore's room.
My hand hit the doorframe and I paused, my heart hammering in my chest. I could only stand there helplessly and watch the flurry of activity around him as doctors relentlessly tried to bring him back.
"Time of death?" One of them called, barely above a whisper.
The other doctor risked a quick glance at his wrist, about to utter the most feared words, "Five--"
That was when a bloodcurdling scream came from behind me. "No!!! Papa!"
Serafina's cry pierced the stifling silence of the room before her body gave out and she crumbled to the floor, Ronan quickly stepping in to catch her. The sight of her so lifeless ripped my attention from Salvatore, sending shockwaves through me.
Everything seemed to grind to a halt, my surroundings fading into the background as a wave of shock and despair washed over me.
"Salvatore can't be gone. That just can't be happening." A low denial fell from my lips and I shot towards Salvatore's bed.
My hands clenched into fists as I yelled at the doctors, demanding, "Try again! Keep trying!"
"Ma'am, we apologize but--" One of them attempted to apologize, but I wasn't having it.
My fingers dug into the crisp fabric of his white coat and I practically snarled at him, "I said try again! Again!"
After a moment's hesitation, he picked up the defibrillator again.
Each beep and buzz of the medical equipment seemed to echo inside my skull. All I could do was hope, plead for a miracle to happen.
Then, it came: the sound of the heart monitor beeping steadily. His heart was beating again!
I heaved a sigh of relief, not realizing I'd been holding my breath in.
Shock gave way to a sudden surge of emotions, and I found myself sinking to the corner of the room. A fresh wave of guilt hit me like a punch, choking out my thoughts.
Deep down, I knew that somehow, all of this was connected to the mysterious old man who knew my real name. I couldn't shake off the guilt; I felt like I had somehow set these terrible events into motion.
"Ma'am?" A nurse called out to me. I lifted my gaze from the floor to meet hers, but her words were lost to me.
Everything seemed like it was under water; the only sounds I could hear were the chaotic jumble of my thoughts, rebounding against the walls of my conscience.
My heart was thudding painfully against my chest when papa abruptly entered Salvatore's room, dragging me out of my whirlpool of thoughts.
He said my name, "Frankie," with an urgency that pulled me towards him.
His hug brought with it a torrent of unshed tears and I found myself breaking down, drenching his suit with my regret-filled sobs. "Papa!" I wailed, the words almost sticking in my throat. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I'm so, so sorry."
Papa comforted me in his warm, assuring voice, "Don't blame yourself, sweetheart." As he said this, he soothingly stroked my hair, a gesture he usually saved for my childhood nightmares. "The Capanos have made many enemies over the years. Something like this was bound to happen at some point."
I wished with all my heart to believe his comforting words. Yet, I knew better, knew that his attempt to soothe my guilt was baseless.
Slowly, I extricated myself from papa's grip, my thoughts swirling around in chaotic circles.
"The attack was meant for me," I stammered, barely holding back the tremor in my voice.
Shocked, Papa regarded me with wide, questioning eyes. "What?" he exclaimed, his usually controlled voice reflecting his disbelief, "How do you know that?"
Attempting to compose myself, I drew a deep breath before motioning him to follow me outside the room.
The instant Sawyer caught sight of me, he closed the gap between us at a rapid pace. He framed my face in his hands, worry casting shadows across his features. "Are you okay?"
"I am," I managed to nod weakly.
"How's Serafina?" I asked in a quivering voice that didn't seem like my own.
"She's okay," came Ronan's comforting response, his face softening with evident relief. "Carlo and Hector are keeping her company."
"What did you find?" I directed my question at Sawyer.
"Nothing," he answered, frustration lacing his words. "I reviewed every inch of the footage but he left no traces. He's a fucking ghost!"
A wave of unease wrapped around my heart as I grappled with unanswered questions.
"Frankie, what's happening? Who are you trying to find?" papa broke his silence, confusion etched onto his features.
Inhaling a shaky breath, I explained, "An old man approached me on the terrace, last night. He knew exactly who I was, addressing me by my birth name. The man made it very clear that he was targeting me. I asked Sawyer to review the security footage, in hopes of identifying him."
"I could go through them again," Sawyer offered readily.
Shaking my head, I responded, "That won't be necessary. That old man is one sly dog. He cornered me in a place with no surveillance coverage."
I could see the frenzy before they were even within hearing range; Salvatore's wife making a beeline down the hospital corridor with the Don himself and Salvatore's eldest boy Severino in tow. The sight of them raised my heart rate.
"Where's my husband? I want to see my husband! Where is he?" Salvatore's wife shouted frantically.
Papa instantly maneuvered his way through the gathering to her side, gently escorting her into Salvatore's room.
Meanwhile, I chose to hang back, shrinking into my corner, desperate to stay invisible to the accusatory glances of Salvatore's family. Yet, much to my surprise, The Don - Salvatore's very own father - chose to sidle up to me.
"Francesca," he murmured, his voice so gentle that it surprised me.
My surprise, in fact, tripled. That he chose to approach me was shocking enough, but knowing my name?
My mind spun, the only explanation I could land on was that Salvatore must have spoken of me.
Guilt welled up in my chest and I quickly apologized, eyes stuck to the spotless hospital floor. "I had caused all this chaos and pain - for Salvatore, his family, myself. I didn't mean to."
"I know," was The Don's surprising response. He rested a reassuring hand on my shoulder, a comforting weight. "Sometimes when you love someone, you have to take risks. I'd have done the same for you, Francesca."
I was left utterly flabbergasted. What he was saying didn't add up. What could I mean to The Don, to risk so much? He was the Don - there must be something I wasn't understanding.
Before I could sort through my tangled thoughts, The Don rose from his chair, gripping my hands tightly before dropping them. "You're important, Francesca," was all he said before he retreated into Salvatore's room, leaving me alone with my confusion.
And while The Don's cryptic words spun my head around in circles, one thought echoed in the cacophony - I needed answers. I needed to understand how and why I fit into this puzzle. And for the first time, I was resolved to dig them up myself.
──●◎●──
Stepping into Salvatore's room was more difficult than I'd expected. I couldn't escape the guilt that gnawed at me; I knew that I had unintentionally contributed to the pain of this family. But then The Don emerged from the room and gestured for me to follow him inside.
Upon entering, I saw Salvatore laying frail and motionless on the hospital bed, the eerie silence of the room only broken by the steady beeping of the machines beside him.
"He's going to pull through this," The Don assured me softly, without looking away from Salvatore's motionless figure.
The oldest son, Severino, then locked eyes with me, his orbs brimming with tears. I braced myself for the blame, for the harsh words that I deserved. To my surprise, his features softened and he gently took my hand into his own, kissing it lightly, his teary eyes glinting with gratitude.
"I've heard about your brave efforts to save his life," he spoke gently, "That won't be forgotten."
Salvatore's wife met my gaze. A sad smile played on her lips and tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over any second. Looking from me to her comatose husband, she whispered, "Sono cosi grato che sia ancora con noi, (I'm just so grateful he's still with us)"
My relief was cut short by the abrupt entrance of Serafina. "Cosa ci fa qui? (what's she doing here!)" she spat venomously as soon as she saw me. "Leave now! You've already caused too much damage!"
Serafina's words were like knives cutting through my heart, and I felt like I had no right to be there. Despite my brief acquaintance with Salvatore, I still cared for him deeply, and being held accountable for his fate was too heavy a burden to bear.
"Serafina!" The Don growled with evident fury in his tone. "Abbastanza! Non ha fatto niente di male. Se devi incolpare qualcuno, allora incolpa tuo padre per essersi gettato davanti a quel proiettile. (Enough! She hasn't done anything wrong. If you need to blame someone, then blame your father for throwing himself in front of that bullet)"
Shock and disbelief marred Serafina's features. After a few moments of stunned silence, she turned and bolted out of the room, hot tears streaming down her face.
After a tense moment of silence, The Don broke the quiet. "I'm sorry for my granddaughter's misplaced outburst," he said apologetically. His usual harsh tone had softened with sorrow, "Don't take her words to heart."
I understand, I assured him with a smile, masking my teetering emotions. "I can't fault her for being upset. She's going through a tough time, too." After taking a deep breath to steady myself, I continued, "Excuse me for a bit, I need some air."
I wandered off in search of Serafina as she was not to be found in the waiting area or the corridor. But I knew exactly where she would be.
When I got onto the rooftop, the chilly touch of New York's winter air wrapped itself around me. I breathed in, letting the frosty freshness take over my senses.
Then, there she was.
Serafina was standing there, her tears trickling down her face in a quiet sorrow. She was staring off into the twinkling city lights that were gradually turning dim as dawn began to break. I decided to stand next to her, surrendering myself to the peaceful silence of the early morning.
We stayed quiet for a moment, and then I started speaking in a low, almost haunted voice. "When I was just four years old, I lost my mother," I started to share. Vivid memories of that fateful day filled my thoughts. "I can still remember every detail. She would usually go grocery shopping, leaving us alone at home with my older brother to babysit us. But for some reason, on that day, I threw a tantrum, insisting that she take me along. And she did. As we walked down the street, hand in hand, I dropped my toy - a stupid, insignificant ball. In my haste to retrieve it, I let go of my mother's hand and rushed towards it. That's when I saw a car hurtling towards me. Like any protective mother, she instantly reacted, throwing herself in front of the speeding vehicle to shield me from harm, losing her life in the process."
I could feel Serafina turning her head to stare at me, no doubt puzzled by the sudden confession.
"I was just a child, but I blamed myself for the longest time," I continued. "If I hadn't thrown that fit, she might still be alive. And maybe, by some twist of fate, if I hadn't attended the wedding yesterday, your father would have been safe and reunited with his family."
Overcome with her pain and loss, she yelled at me through her tears, "If only he hadn't met you! He would be safe! He would be at home with us!"
I instinctively pulled Serafina into a hug, tightly holding onto her even as she resisted my grip. She finally gave in to my embrace and clung to me, crying with all her heart.
"I'm so sorry... I really am..." I kept whispering, as my own tears started to blend with hers.
"He is everything to me, Francesca... I can't lose him, not him too!" she sobbed, the sound of her tears hitting me like a punch in the gut. Still, I didn't let go of her, holding onto Serafina even tighter.
After a while, Serafina drew back from our hug. She dabbed at her teary cheeks and, looking into my eyes, her countenance turned mellow.
"Francesca, I owe you an apology," she whispered remorsefully. "I guess I just needed someone to blame."
"Hey, it's all good," I told her gently, giving a slight shrug. "No need for any apologies."
Serafina shook her head vehemently, "No, Francesca. It is important for me to say sorry. I shouldn't have hurled all those cruel words at you. It was not fair. It was my father who decided to take a gamble on his own life. It's on him, not you." She took a pause to compose herself, before continuing, "You had nothing to do with his actions. I am really sorry."
Feeling a rush of relief, I grinned faintly at Serafina. "It's fine, really. And as for Salvatore, he's a strong man, I'm sure he will make it through. That's my belief," I assured her.
Serafina responded with a grateful smile before making her way back downstairs, leaving me alone on the rooftop.
I remained there, savoring the tranquillity that the gentle breeze had to offer. A barrage of thoughts enveloped me, a sea of concerns related to everything that had happened thus far, their heaviness sinking my spirits.
Deep in thought, my reverie was abruptly interrupted by the beep of an incoming text message on my cell. A chill ran up my spine as I unlocked my phone and glanced at the notification.
An unknown number had sent the text. My heart pounded heavily against my chest as I read the message on the screen: "I heard you were looking for me. I'll find you when the time comes. Keep safe, Francesca Hansley."
My body instinctively stiffened, icy terror seeping into my bloodstream.
Who on earth was this old man? And what the fuck did he want from me?
The thoughts loomed heavily in my mind, cranking up my anxiety several notches.