Epilogue
Sydney
Four Years Later
“Hey, I’m home!” I belt out as I drop my keys on the front hallway table. It’s been a long day of surgeries, but unlike years past, I feel invigorated by the day instead of swallowed by it.
Most were facial reconstruction patients, but there were a few elective surgeries as well. That poor gentleman living with a huge abdominal hernia for years is going to feel like a new man. It was so large he looked like he was in his third trimester.
The children, though. I live for the opportunity to help them. To give these beautiful kids with cleft palate deformities the chance to grow up without prying eyes constantly on them. There’s immeasurable satisfaction in that part of my job.
I’d observed many cleft palate repair surgeries when I volunteered with the Operation Smile organization during medical school. I knew they were performing these life altering surgeries in over thirty countries. I’m so grateful to provide care to a population that might otherwise be overlooked.
Dr. Weston has been a lifesaver.
Literally.
Not only in aiding us with a new chance at life, but also in helping to lay the groundwork to continue my surgical practice under a new identity. He’d connected me with Doctors Without Borders so I could work with adults as well as children. After vouching for me personally and explaining my circumstances, they were willing to take me on with an assumed name.
It’s a dream come true. Not only am I able to continue doing the work I’d trained so hard for, but providing services to the underserved population is an added bonus. No longer do I have to contend with unrealistic scheduling expectations. Or that someone didn’t go home with a lifetime supply of Percocet.
My current patient population is so grateful for the care they receive. And what’s more, their positive energy is infectious.
Of course, it doesn’t hurt that I know I’m coming home to my handsome husband each day.
I have to admit, I was more than a little worried that Matteo might be bored. While I work performing surgeries that rejuvenate me daily, he spends much of his time behind a laptop. Sure, now that the truth is out, it’s clear why he never seemed to get his hands dirty in the auto body shop. But at least then he was out and about, surrounded by people. Now I worry he’s isolated. However, he assures me this is no loss. That what we have is more than he could’ve dared to let himself dream.
He continues to watch his father’s camp remotely, promising not to do anything to put us at risk. He agrees to let his cousin Dan, as well as Giovanni and his team, carry out any vendetta on Vincenzo Messina from here on out. And I believe him. We’ve lost so much already. There’s no way he’d risk going back there.
I’m so incredibly proud of Matteo. Working in healthcare for so long, I’d seen the devastating effects of alcohol on the body. Beyond the loss of life and limb from car accidents, or jail time, was the life sentence on one’s organs. Dementia from Wernicke-Korsakoff syndrome, uncontrolled hypertension, heart attacks, strokes, and liver failure are all associated with chronic alcoholism. But the most pervasive problem is often depression, anxiety, and the loss of jobs and relationships with friends and family.
The work he did putting his life in order has far more reach than his own personal experience. It’s meant everything. To his extended family, as well as to me.
I wish he’d felt he could come to me about all of it instead of dealing with his demons on his own. But this was more than an issue of miscommunication or safety. He was torn. He knew if he’d told me of the evil his father was capable, putting hits out on us and Luca’s family, that I would’ve begged to go into hiding rather than lose him. But my surgical career is a huge part of my life. It gives me purpose. I’d hate to think what life might be like without it. Would I have yearned for it as I had my husband?
One of the most surprising outcomes in our decision to take our lives back was the reaction from my parents. While we’ve never had a terribly close relationship, I know they love me in their own way. Pretentious as it may be. Yet I can’t imagine what it had to feel like to hear your only daughter was gone.
The whole thing was an elaborate ruse, but the reporters jumped on the story before anyone could get to my parents. Or poor Matteo. It’s like those journalists hadn’t settled down from the feeding frenzy of Alexis Patterson’s abduction. The minute there was word of my demise, those sharks swarmed, plastering the gruesome details on television, social media, and the front pages of the paper.
Thankfully, Broadie and Poppy managed to fly to New York City under the guise of consoling my parents. But with Max’s help, they were able to connect us through an encrypted server to reassure them I was all right.
I fully expected a lecture on how they should’ve expected something like this to happen, given my relationship with the tattooed Italian. But my mother floored me. “My world ended when the reporters came to the door, asking for a comment on your sudden death.”
She’d apparently fainted. My father hadn’t fared much better. Luckily, Broadie and his sweet wife were there within a few hours of the news breaking and could reassure them. My poor mother was difficult to understand when she came onto the screen. Her words so choked by sobs. “I’m just so grateful they were able to protect you, Sydney. I feel like I’ve been given a gift, knowing you’re all right.”
We have to be careful with communication, given Vincenzo’s men likely have eyes on my parents at all times. But I’ve been able to speak with them once a month by video chat, and we were actually able to meet them while I was working in St. Thomas. Mom and Dad had taken a cruise with a stop there, and one of Giovanni’s security team was able to meet them at the terminal, disguised as a tour bus driver, and bring them to a secluded location. Who knew bouncing from one country to another under an assumed identity could be the best thing to happen to my relationship with my parents?
Faking my death wasn’t something I had a hand in, but in hindsight, I know it was the only way to offer any sense of security. And I’m no longer upset about it. I know they did what they had to do.
Broadie and Giovanni had dealt with this before. They’d lived through the terror of trying to keep Luca and his family safe. These men were not going to stop. Whether the plan was abduction, torture, mine or Matteo’s, is unclear. But I have no doubt after all I’ve learned that ultimately, they would’ve killed me once they were done. And that fate might have been preferable to anything else they had planned.
Accepting that reality wasn’t easy. Giving up the life I’d built. I loved my practice and all of the patients I’d met. I considered my coworkers extended family. And my home and my friends were what kept me sane all those years without Matteo. Walking away seemed like more than I could bear.
Security continues to be a part of our daily life. However, it isn’t as tight as it used to be. No cameras in the house or black cars with tinted windows on every corner. Yet they’re lurking in the distance. I’ve had to accept it and try to keep them in the periphery. They’re merely background noise. Like a random hawk flying overhead, you’re often too busy to acknowledge. Their presence is still essential. I know that. For I’m living my best life right now, as complicated as it may be.
There are times I miss my friends. But I wouldn’t trade the opportunity for a second chance with Matteo for anything. He promises we will make it to Italy one day. I’m praying it’s not contingent on his father’s untimely demise. Hell, that’s been years in the making. And it doesn’t sound like anyone is any closer to eliminating Vincenzo Messina from the world.
Yet Matteo promises he, Giovanni, and Max will find a way for us to spend some time there. Show me what life was like through his mother’s eyes. We may not make it to Sicily, but at least I can experience the Italian heritage that shaped his life. I can’t wait to experience all of the sights, the food, and the culture through his eyes.
We move frequently, going wherever Doctors Without Borders feels the need is greatest. Matteo has worked with Max and Giovanni to locate homes that are safe and secure and in a pleasant location. Our current abode is a small two-bedroom cottage with a pool along the Savaneta Beach. It’s only a short walk down to the water’s edge.
The home is within an hour of the Horacio Oduber Hospital, but close enough to San Nicolas where many of my patients reside that we can visit with them and their families to discuss surgery without requiring them to find a ride to the hospital until they are ready for their procedure.
Paradise.
When a walk through the little bungalow turns up empty, I decide to change into my swimsuit, some shorts, and a tank and make the trek down the path to the beach. It’s been nice to end my days along the water after spending so many years in a classroom, medical office, or hospital.
Strolling down the well-worn path to the water below, I inhale the sea air as it tosses my hair around me. I really do have it all. Okay, so we’re still hiding from the mafia , but otherwise we have it all.
Yet as I get closer to the spot where I’d normally find Matteo if he was here, my face scrunches in confusion at the sound of a female’s voice giggling over the dune. I’m momentarily so stunned it’s difficult to put one foot in front of the other. Memories of that awful night I found Matteo at Luigi’s, running his hand up that woman’s leg before pulling her into his lap invade my mind. The pain is no less raw knowing she was actually Giovanni’s date. It cemented his leaving, nonetheless.
That type of heartache leaves scars, regardless of the reason.
I will myself to keep moving. Could there be someone vacationing near here who has stumbled upon our favorite beach spot? As the female in question comes into view, my eyes practically bulge from their sockets.
“What on earth?”
“Well, as I live and breathe, is that Alison Thomas?” the southern beauty turns to her friend. “You know, I heard she’s the best surgeon on the island.”
My feet are flying in their direction before I can think twice about it. “Carol Ann! Genni, Pepper.” Tears are flying down my cheeks at the sight of them. Other than a rare encrypted video chat, I haven’t seen all of my friends together in one place since the abduction attempt four years ago.
“Awe, honey. No tears. No one’s allowed to cry in my presence,” Genni says as moisture wells in her lids.
“Oh, if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes,” Pepper squeals.
“I’ve missed you girls like crazy. I didn’t realize how much until you were here in front of me.”
“Let’s go sit under that umbrella so I can get a good look at you. And get out of the sun for a few minutes. Heck, it’s hotter than blue blazes out here. I mean, the chickens are probably layin’ hard-boiled eggs.”
I laugh.
“Yes, but we’re on a beach in Aruba. And the breeze is nice.” Pepper attempts to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, to no avail.
“Breeze? This wind might blow you right into next week.”
I let out an honest to God snort. How is it possible to have missed Carol Ann’s goofy slang so dang much?
As we reach the oversized umbrella with four beach chairs parked beneath, I drop into a seat as Genni hands me a bottled water. Uncapping it, I take a hearty sip.
“Well, not that you probably need a reason, but you better give that husband of yours some good head tonight.”
I immediately spew water everywhere.
“Carol Ann!” Genni and Pepper shout.
I wouldn’t expect anything else from my no filter friend.
“What? It’s the least she should do for arranging for us to fly here for the week. I admit it, I get why you hung in there so long with him through all of that nonsense.”
“Oh my gosh, you guys are here all week?”
“Yes. He got word to us that you had a really light week at the hospital next week and so we made quick work of freeing our calendar.” Genni beams.
“We’re staying in a Hyatt Regency. He’s packing your things as we speak. It’s girls’ week, bitches!” Carol Ann holds out her water bottle as each of my friends joins in the reverie.
Genni leans closer to my side. “I take back everything bad I ever said about Matteo.”
“Same, girl. Same,” Carol Ann adds. “I’m pretty certain that man could charm the warts off a toad.”
We all laugh. I’m not sure she could give a higher compliment than that.
Matteo
Throwing a few more things into a suitcase for my wife, I carry it over to the front room for when she returns. I wish I could’ve been a fly in the breeze when she spotted her friends this afternoon.
I’m so incredibly grateful that after everything I put her through, she allowed me a second chance. Working with Max and Giovanni to get them here safely was the least I could do for all Sydney’s given up for me. He coordinated having them all fly in separately, to avoid anyone trailing them to my wife. Luckily, G had a few men who were overdue for a vacation. He sent them here to watch over the girls while they’re here, so they can take turns having some down time.
I’m now able to work remotely, so I can stay involved in watching the Messina crime family implode while I support Sydney’s career, keeping us off the grid. We may live undercover in the tropics now, but I’m as committed to her as ever. I no longer consider watching my wife an unhealthy addiction. We have a life to live. Work to continue. However, I’ve learned to lean much more heavily on Giovanni and D’angelo to carry out the mission of bringing down my father.
I’d handed over AAA Auto Body and Second to None Auto Body to Reggie before leaving the country. They had served their purposes when I needed them, and I was glad to see the hardworking men and women employed at the two locations get the chance to take over ownership. While bringing down the crime ring by halting sex trafficking, gun running, and drug distribution is still my priority, I honestly have a new favorite job.
Daddy.
“Daddy, fix it.” Rory pouts, holding out a pink fluffy hair tie.
“Come here, sweet girl.”
Lifting my pint-sized princess, I sit her down carefully on the counter and reach for her soft bristle brush. As I run it through the wispy dark strands, I can’t help but grin down at her. She’s the perfect combination of her mother and me. While I’d secretly hoped she’d have her mother’s golden locks, she was born with my dark hair and her mother’s fair skin and big blue eyes.
At forty-six years old, I never imagined I’d be a doting father to a little girl, doing her hair and nails while her mother works full time. But it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Well, second only to being Sydney’s husband.
Our three-year-old, Aurora Bianchi, is our pride and joy. We named her after my mother, but all traceable paperwork has her listed as Olivia Thomas, daughter of Alison and Matthew Thomas. There’s no way we’re risking having anyone named Bianchi on any country manifest we visit. We’re following Max and Giovanni’s strict rules to the letter to avoid attracting any unwanted attention our way.
After the second hairbow is in place, I look at my precious girl in her sweet little pink dress and have to choke back my tears. Every single second of agony I suffered over the last six years has been worth it. If I’d known what was waiting for me on the other side, I would’ve gotten dry sooner. Begged Giovanni to help me find a way to go underground.
But I’m learning that sometimes life has its own plans. They can’t be forced. You simply have to believe the best is yet to come and live like it’s on the way.
“How’s that, principessa?” I spin her to face the mirror, blowing raspberries into her cheek.
A precious giggle bounces about the small space, stealing all my attention.
“Uh hm,” a throat clears, and I turn to find Sydney leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her slender frame. “I thought I was your princess.”
Lifting Rory into my arms, I pivot, carrying her over to her mother. Leaning down, I give her a chaste kiss as my daughter claps her little hands.
“You, my love, are my queen.”
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