39. Penelope
PENELOPE
S everal days had passed since Enzo and my brothers shaved their heads. Amara had yet to leave the hospital, each day bringing worse news and an even worse mental state for all of us.
My husband had been running both Papà’s business and his own. Whenever I pressed him for details, he’d kiss me hard and make me forget what I’d asked in the first place. It was an effective method and made me realize how weak I was when it came to him.
However, Papà’s words about the Popov family never left my mind.
But all of it faded now, listening to Dr. Gvozden. My ears rang, repeating it on a loop.
Weeks left. Prepare for the worst. Get everything in order.
I struggled to adopt his calm demeanor, especially now that he’d shared the terrible news. She only had weeks to live—my precious, perfect little sister. How could that be? When she started treatment, he said we had time. Didn’t he?
My back was pressed against Enzo’s warm chest, his grip on me tightening with every word the doctor uttered. He’d just returned from handling a business call, but he wasn’t taking the news well either.
“You can’t all stay here,” Dr. Gvozden claimed, concern etched in his expression.
“We were all here yesterday,” Armani argued. “And the day before. There were no issues then.”
Dr. Gvozden’s expression soured. “We have other patients to consider. Besides, as a doctor, I’m telling you that you all need some rest. Take a few hours to eat and recharge, and then take turns staying with Amara. You’re not any good for her if you’re exhausted.”
Armani was ready to continue arguing, but a page came through the speakers calling him, and the doctor turned on his heel and left.
Mama finally spoke, her voice shaky. “The doctor is right. Luca and I will be back to stay with Amara through the night. Then, starting tomorrow, we take turns.”
“I don’t get it,” Papà muttered. “None of this makes sense.”
I agreed. This couldn’t be right. Which was why I intended to sit my parents down and talk about it. Maybe during dinner tonight. We should have every doctor on this planet evaluate Amara.
Because I simply couldn’t wrap my mind around this bullshit prognosis. It should never have come to this. A few fucking weeks ? No way, no how.
My gaze flickered to the hospital room that had become my sister’s prison these past few days.
With my family still lingering in the hallway, I stepped inside the low-lit space.
The steady beeping of the monitor was the only constant sound.
The sterile walls were painted with a smiling sun mural, with flowers of all kinds sprouting up from the dull linoleum floor all the way to the paneled ceiling.
Since she couldn’t have the real ones, my husband and brothers had done the next best thing: they painted them on the walls.
The hospital wasn’t initially happy about it, but it made Amara smile and that was all that mattered.
As did the generous donation Enzo had placated them with.
My eyes fell to my sleeping sister, lying still in the metal bed, tubes and machines crowding around her. I took a seat on one side of the bed, watching as she opened her eyes.
“You’re not going to hold…” She breathed heavily, then raised her hand.
I smiled softly and reached for it, then held it tightly in mine. With my other hand, I reached over and stroked her head.
“I wish you’d get rid of the hat,” I murmured. “I want to touch you, not that .”
She shrugged limply, letting the silence dominate. I roamed over her pale face and drawn eyes. She looked weaker than she’d ever been. There had to be something we could do.
“Can I ask you a favor?”
“Yes, of course. Anything.”
“Hold on to Enzo.” I let out a broken laugh, tears gathering in my eyes. “He’s a keeper.”
I squeezed her hand gently. “I agree.”
“Promise me, no matter what he… does, you won’t let him go.”
My brow furrowed, not following her meaning, but I agreed nonetheless. “I promise.”
She smiled, then immediately winced. “He’s trying so hard.” I nodded slowly. “He loves you. And I love you.”
I dropped my head to her blanket-covered lap. “I love you more.”
Her breaths came in and out slowly. “I just want to rest now. Okay?”
I swallowed and sat upright, doing my best to pack up my emotions. I needed to be strong for her.
“Yes, rest. We’ll be here when you wake up.” She exhaled slowly before her eyes fluttered shut. “Good night, Amara.”
It was six p.m. when we entered the restaurant.
Nobody wanted to go home, and since everyone was sick and tired of the bad cafeteria food, Enzo called ahead and booked out the restaurant closest to the hospital.
My family was seated around the table set for seven, but there were only six of us. Amara’s spot was empty, her absence a painful reminder.
An ambulance siren whined in the distance, but nobody reacted to it. After so much time spent in the hospital, it’d become a familiar noise.
The atmosphere was sullen, the food in front of us sat mostly untouched. Despair hung heavy in the air, with only the occasional soft clink of cutlery breaking through.
My parents sat with slumped shoulders and red-rimmed eyes. My brothers’ eyes were on their pasta dishes as they pushed the food around on the plate, but it would seem no one felt right about enjoying food when Amara was in her current state.
And me… I couldn’t even bring myself to reach for my fork.
“He’s wrong,” Papà finally said. “He has to be. How can we have gone from years to mere days ?”
“The other doctors said the same thing.” Mama’s voice cracked, and she looked up for the first time since we sat down.
“They all work for Dr. Gvozden,” Enzo stated, the only one who somewhat kept his composure. But the vehemence in his eyes and voice terrified me.
“Where have you been?” Papà asked, as if just now noticing Enzo’s presence. “The past two hours.”
“Buying a house for Penelope and me.”
I tensed, but the subject fizzled out.
Silence closed around us, thick with anxiety and something else. Deceit .
Damiano cleared his throat, then spoke with a grave voice. “Who can we turn to, sis? Don’t you know a doctor in the States, Pa?”
“Not an oncologist,” Papà answered, disappointment lacing through his every word.
Armani slammed his fist on the table. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
“We haven’t eaten all day,” Enzo reasoned patiently. “We won’t be of any use to Amara if we fall over from hunger.” His eyes bored into mine. “Eat something, please.”
My throat was so tight I was terrified I’d throw up if I took a single bite.
Mama slowly wiped at the tear rolling down her cheek, then, to my surprise, took a bite. She chewed her food, her expression blank, then swallowed.
“Enzo’s right. Let’s refuel, then your papà and I will return to the hospital. The rest of you get some rest.” When Papà didn’t move, she pinned him with a stare, but his eyes were locked on the empty chair, sorrow etched in every wrinkle of his face. “Luca?”
He returned Mama’s look when a phone rang out. Followed by another. Papà and Enzo reached for their pockets, and judging by their reaction when they read their messages, it was business.
Papà’s eyes flickered to my husband. “Qian Long is dead.”
He nodded. “So it would appear.”
The cold tenor in Enzo’s voice sent terror through me.
“Who’s Qian Long?”
Enzo shrugged.
Papà answered. “Nicki’s husband. Her brother, Danil Popov, forced a marriage between her and the head of the Triads. A fucking disaster it was, pairing two lunatics with each other.”
Enzo nodded. “Agreed.”
“I guess your alibi is rock solid,” Papà continued pensively. “You were here, and he was killed in Naples.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
My husband’s jaw tightened, something dark lurking in his expression. It took me a minute to recognize it: self-loathing.
Mama’s phone rang.
“It’s the hospital,” she breathed out, terrified. “Hello?”
The spoon slipped from her hand and clattered against the table. Food splattered all around her, but she paid it no mind. She sat there stock-still, her knuckles whitening around the phone from the force of her grip.
Deafening silence ensued—unbearable and endless.
Until Mama’s sob shattered through the air. “ She’s gone .”
The words crashed into my soul like thunder. The walls started to close in. My vision blurred.
A set of warm, familiar hands wrapped around me, but I couldn’t move.
“…can’t be…”
“…has to be a mistake…”
I couldn’t distinguish the voices from the ringing in my ears. I stared at the small bouquet of flowers in the center of the table.
Amara loves flowers. I swallowed. Loved .
I closed my eyes, my soul splintering into a thousand little pieces.
My breaths came in choppy and my heart pounded violently, drumming against my ribs like a desperate plea to bring her back.
My hands trembled as I clutched the tablecloth like a lifeline.
“We should have stayed,” I choked out. “We should have stayed . We should have stayed!”
She died all alone.
A scream tore from my throat and I buried my head in Enzo’s chest. His palm moved up and down on my back, murmuring words I wasn’t able to process because my own drowned them out.
“She died all alone,” I rasped.