Chapter 8 - THE HEALER'S HANDS
The continuous shrill tone of the flatline tore through the room like a physical blade.
Dominic froze, the color draining completely from his face as he stared at the monitor showing a straight, solid green line. Julian laughed weakly from the floor, his twisted vengeance finally realized.
"Doctor!" Dominic roared, abandoning Julian and lunging toward the bed. "Get in here!"
But the medical staff had locked themselves in the nurses' station when the gunfire started. We were completely alone.
Dominic grabbed his father's shoulders, shaking the frail old man. "Dad! Don't you leave me! Fight it!"
I didn't freeze. My mind flashed back to the cardiac ward in Albany, the countless hours I had spent watching nurses crash-cart patients who had slipped away.
I ripped the yellow-tinted IV line out of Antonio's arm, throwing it onto the floor to stop the flow of the potassium chloride.
"Dominic, move!" I shouted, a fierce, commanding tone taking over my voice that I didn't know I possessed.
I shoved the mafia boss aside. I climbed onto the edge of the hospital bed, straddling Antonio's waist, carefully balancing my heavy, pregnant belly.
I placed the heel of my right hand squarely in the center of Antonio’s chest, covered it with my left hand, locked my elbows, and pushed down hard.
One, two, three, four...
"Come on, Antonio," I grunted, putting my entire upper body weight into the chest compressions. "You didn't survive fourteen months in a locked room just to let this lawyer win. Fight!"
Dominic stood frozen in shock, watching a pregnant maid fight a literal war for his father's soul.
Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen...
"Where is the crash cart?!" I screamed at Dominic without breaking rhythm. "In the hallway! Bring it here!"
Dominic snapped out of his trance. He sprinted into the hallway and returned seconds later, shoving a red emergency medical cart through the doors.
"Turn it on!" I ordered, continuing the brutal compressions. Sweat poured down my face. My lower back screamed in agony, but I refused to stop. "Grab the paddles! Press the charge button!"
Dominic fumbled with the defibrillator, ripping the heavy plastic paddles from their holsters. The machine whined as it charged.
"Clear!" Dominic shouted.
I threw myself off Antonio's chest, falling back onto the mattress.
Dominic slammed the paddles onto his father's chest. Antonio's frail body violently arched off the bed.
We stared at the monitor.
The green line remained flat. The horrific BEEEEP continued.
"Charge it again!" I cried, scrambling back to resume compressions. "Don't stop!"
Dominic pressed the button. The machine whined again.
"Clear!"
A second shock hit Antonio's chest.
We waited in agonizing silence. One second. Two seconds.
Suddenly, a jagged peak appeared on the monitor screen.
Then another.
Beep... beep... beep.
A ragged, desperate gasp escaped Antonio's lips. His chest began to rise and fall on its own. The sinus rhythm was weak, erratic, but it was there.
He was alive.
Dominic dropped the paddles to the floor. The terrifying mafia kingpin fell to his knees beside the bed, burying his face in the mattress, his broad shoulders shaking with silent, overwhelming sobs.
I slid off the bed, my entire body trembling with exhaustion. I collapsed into a plastic visitor’s chair, wrapping my arms protectively around my stomach.
Within moments, Rocco and the security team stormed the room, followed closely by the terrified medical staff.
Rocco hauled Julian Thorne off the floor by his uninjured arm. Julian stared at the blinking heart monitor in pure disbelief, his revenge completely shattered.
"Take him to the warehouse," Dominic whispered, rising to his feet, his eyes locked on Julian with a promise of unimaginable pain. "Make sure he lives long enough to regret every second of the last thirty years."
As Julian was dragged away, the doctors stabilized Antonio, flushing his system and hooking him up to clean monitors.
Three days later, the chaos had finally settled.
Victoria Sterling had been banished from New York, stripped of her engagement ring, her stolen funds seized, and threatened with execution if she ever spoke the Romano name again. Carlo was quietly ousted from the family business, exiled to a remote property in Italy under permanent guard.
The Romano empire had been cleansed.
I was sitting in Antonio's recovery suite. The afternoon sun bathed the room in a warm, golden light.
Antonio was awake. He looked tired, but the color had returned to his cheeks. Propped up on his lap was a brand new, fully functional communication tablet.
Dominic stood at the foot of the bed, wearing a crisp dark suit, looking more at peace than I had ever seen him.
He walked over to me and held out a small, dark blue velvet box.
"What is this?" I asked softly.
"Open it," Dominic said.
I popped the lid. Inside rested a delicate, breathtaking gold necklace, featuring a small pendant of a mother holding a child.
"It belonged to my mother," Dominic said, his gray eyes shining with profound gratitude. "She wore it every day when I was a boy. I want you to have it."
"Dominic, I can't accept this," I whispered, tears welling in my eyes. "It's too much."
Before Dominic could answer, the synthesized voice of Antonio’s tablet spoke into the quiet room.
"She is family now, Dominic."
I looked at Antonio. The old man was smiling at me, his dark eyes filled with absolute love.
"Thank you, Emily," Antonio typed slowly. "You saved my life. You saved my family."
I smiled, reaching out to squeeze Antonio's hand.
But as my fingers touched his, a sudden, blinding spike of pain ripped through my abdomen. It wasn't a cramp. It was a torrential, unavoidable force.
I gasped, my hand flying to my stomach as a gush of warm fluid soaked my gray uniform pants.
May you like
My water had just broken.
"Dominic," I choked out, clutching the armrest of the chair as a massive contraction hit me. "The baby. She's coming right now."
