Chapter 8 - The Breath of Life
The siren of the black SUV screamed through the empty Chicago streets, tearing past red lights as Dominic drove like a madman. Cassidy sat in the passenger seat, completely numb. Her hands were pressed over her mouth, tears streaming down her face in silent, agonizing sobs.
“We’ll make it,” Dominic said, his voice hard, gripping the steering wheel. “Hold on, Cassidy. Just hold on.”
They skidded to a halt outside St. Jude’s clinic. Cassidy threw the door open before the car even stopped moving, sprinting through the automatic doors.
The lobby was empty. She burst through the double doors of the treatment ward.
Nurses were swarming Bed 4. A doctor was doing chest compressions. The horrific, high-pitched continuous beep of the heart monitor filled the room. A flatline.
“Mom!” Cassidy screamed, trying to push through the medical staff, but two nurses held her back.
“Clear!” the doctor shouted, pressing the defibrillator paddles to her mother’s frail chest.
Her body jolted. The monitor beeped once. Then, nothing.
“Charge to 200. Clear!”
Cassidy collapsed against the wall, sliding down to the linoleum floor. She couldn't breathe. The world was spinning. She had fought so hard. She had worked double shifts, starved herself to afford copays, shielded a child from bullets, and faced down a mafia boss, all to keep this one frail woman alive. And it wasn't enough.
A heavy, warm hand landed on her shoulder. Dominic knelt beside her on the clinic floor, uncaring of the blood on his shirt or the dirt on his pants. He pulled her head against his chest, wrapping his arms around her as she broke down completely.
Beep.
Cassidy gasped, jerking her head up.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
The monitor caught a rhythm. It was faint, but it was there.
“We have a pulse,” the doctor exhaled, wiping sweat from his forehead. “She’s stabilized, but her kidneys are in total failure. She won't survive another episode like this without a transplant, and she’s too far down the waitlist.”
Cassidy closed her eyes, the relief immediately replaced by crushing despair. A transplant was impossible. They had no money, no connections.
Dominic stood up. He walked over to the doctor, his presence filling the sterile room with undeniable authority.
“Who is the chief of surgery at Chicago Memorial?” Dominic asked quietly.
The doctor blinked, intimidated. “Dr. Aris. But he doesn't take—”
“Call him,” Dominic ordered, pulling out a sleek black phone. “Tell him Dominic Valente is moving a VIP patient to his private wing. He is to prep an operating room for a transplant.”
“Sir, we don’t have a donor kidney,” the doctor stammered.
Dominic looked back at Cassidy, his dark eyes softening in a way no one in the underworld had ever seen. “I own three private medical research facilities in this state. By sunrise, there will be a match. I don't care what it costs.”
Cassidy stared at him, stunned. “Dominic... you can't do that. The debt... I can never repay you for that.”
Dominic walked back to her, reaching down and gently pulling her to her feet. He brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb.
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“You protected my daughter today, Cassidy,” Dominic said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You offered your life to buy me time. You don't owe me a thing. My family owes you everything.”
He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. “You are never going back to the Gilded Spoon. You aren't a waitress anymore. You’re under my protection now.”
