Chapter 8 - THE MAN WHO WOULDN'T DIE
Anthony survived.
The bullet missed his heart by less than an inch.
For three days, Luca and I lived in the hospital.
On the fourth morning, Anthony opened his eyes.
He looked at Luca.
Then at me.
“You stayed.”
I laughed through tears.
“You're surprised?”
“A little.”
I leaned closer.
“You're an idiot.”
“I've been called worse.”
Luca climbed carefully onto the bed.
“Daddy?”
Anthony's expression softened.
“Yes?”
“Miss Evelyn saved me again.”
Anthony looked at me.
“I know.”
Luca frowned.
“Are you going to tell her she can't leave again?”
I stared at Anthony.
He almost smiled.
“No.”
My heart dropped strangely.
Anthony continued.
“This time I'm going to ask.”
He reached for my hand.
“Evelyn Hart, will you stay?”
I squeezed his fingers.
“Until you're strong enough for me to yell at you properly.”
“That's not romantic.”
“You were shot.”
“I remain disappointed.”
Luca giggled.
For one beautiful minute, we were happy.
Then Marco entered.
“Salvatore contacted us.”
Anthony's face hardened.
“He wants a war.”
Marco shook his head.
“He wants Luca.”
Anthony tried to sit up.
I pushed him down.
“No.”
“Evelyn—”
“You have stitches.”
“My father—”
“Has spent twenty years making you react exactly how he wants.”
Anthony stared at me.
I continued.
“So stop reacting.”
“What do you suggest?”
“We make him come to us.”
Marco smiled slowly.
Anthony looked offended.
“Why are you smiling?”
“She thinks like you.”
May you like
“No,” Marco said. “She thinks better than you.”
That was how a maid, a wounded mafia boss and a five-year-old boy began planning the end of Salvatore Pellagrini.
