Chapter 8
Wes recovered faster than anyone expected.
He said it was because hospital pudding was terrible and he needed to leave before it ruined his personality.
I slept in the chair beside him.
Nico sent food.
Edna sent blankets.
Luca sent a security guard who somehow knew card tricks.
For the first time in years, I did not feel alone in a hospital hallway.
That scared me.
Loneliness was painful.
But familiar.
Help felt dangerous because it could be taken away.
Nico understood that without me explaining.
He never said, “You can rely on me.”
He just kept showing up.
At the same time, his own world was being stripped open.
The authorities searched Salvatore’s properties.
They found offshore accounts.
Forged medical affidavits.
Payments to Camille’s family.
Threat files on Alfieri employees.
And a plan to dismantle Nico’s control within ninety days of the wedding.
The deeper they dug, the clearer it became.
The crash had not been meant to kill him.
It had been meant to transform him into a legal object.
Alive.
Dependent.
Ashamed.
Controlled.
That somehow felt even crueler.
At the preliminary hearing, Camille wore black and cried for cameras.
I watched from the second row behind Nico.
Wes was home with Mrs. Patel.
Nico sat at the prosecution table, jaw tight.
Camille’s attorney painted her as a frightened fiancée trapped in a dangerous mafia family.
He said she had been manipulated by Salvatore.
He said she gave Nico medication only because she feared he would hurt himself.
Then my recordings played.
Her voice.
“I manage his life.”
The courtroom changed.
Then Marco testified.
He cried when he described Sophia’s school photos.
“I cut the line because they told me it was only a warning. I will carry that shame forever.”
Nico watched him without softness.
But when Marco stepped down, Nico said quietly, “Protect your daughter better than you protected me.”
Marco bowed his head.
“Yes, boss.”
Then I testified.
Camille’s attorney tried to break me.
“Ms. Marsh, you needed this job desperately, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Your brother’s surgery depended on Mr. Alfieri’s insurance.”
“Yes.”
“So you had motivation to please him.”
I looked at Nico.
Then at Camille.
“No. I had motivation to keep my patient alive.”
“Your patient is a reputed crime figure.”
“My patient is a human being.”
The judge looked up.
Nico did too.
The attorney pressed.
“You hid pills in your shoe.”
“Yes.”
“You secretly recorded your employer’s fiancée.”
“Yes.”
“You interfered in private family matters.”
I leaned toward the microphone.
“I stopped a woman from striking a disabled man on the floor after finding evidence she was drugging him. If that is interference, I would do it again.”
The courtroom went silent.
Camille stared at me with pure hatred.
Good.
Hatred meant she knew pity had failed.
After the hearing, Nico waited in the hallway.
“You should go home,” I said.
“You just testified for three hours.”
“You stood in a library to intimidate your uncle.”
“Successfully.”
“Recklessly.”
He smiled faintly.
Then grew serious.
“Thank you.”
I looked away.
“You already said that.”
“No. I thanked you for evidence. I am thanking you for seeing me.”
My throat tightened.
“Nico.”
“I know,” he said. “Too much.”
“It’s not too much.”
“Then what?”
I took a breath.
“You are still my patient.”
“And when I’m not?”
I did not answer.
Because wanting something after fear felt like stepping onto ice.
Before either of us could speak again, Detective Wells approached.
“We found something in Salvatore’s safe.”
Nico turned.
“What?”
“A document from eight months ago. Before the crash.”
She handed him a copy.
His face drained.
I read over his shoulder.
It was a life insurance policy.
Huge.
Issued on Nico.
Beneficiary: Camille Ashcroft.
Secondary beneficiary: Salvatore Alfieri.
But at the bottom was a witness signature.
Edna Hollis.
I looked up sharply.
“No.”
Nico whispered, “Edna?”
Detective Wells said, “We need to speak with her.”
We found Edna in the estate kitchen that evening.
She looked smaller when Detective Wells showed her the document.
“That is my signature,” she said.
Nico’s face tightened.
“Why?”
Edna began to cry.
“They told me it was for medical equipment authorization. Salvatore brought papers. I didn’t read.”
I believed her.
Nico wanted to.
But betrayal had crowded him for too long.
He said nothing.
Edna gripped the table.
“I have served this family for thirty-two years. I loved your father. I loved you.”
Nico’s voice was rough.
“Then why did you wait to open his safe?”
Her face crumpled.
“Because I was afraid the truth would prove I helped hurt you.”
Silence.
Then she pulled something from her apron.
Another key.
“Your father left one more safe.”
Nico stared.
“Where?”
Edna looked at me.
“In the room no one enters anymore.”
“The recovery room?” I asked.
May you like
She shook her head.
“Your mother’s bedroom.”
