Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 25827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Until everything goes black.
Chapter Six
SHE'S SMALL IN THE bed.
That's the first thing my brain offers me when the nurses leave us alone, and it's a stupid thing for a man to think about a woman he has known for half her life.
The hospital they brought her to is on the seventeenth floor of a building I own a piece of without anyone knowing I own a piece of it. The room has also been swept twice, and Rollo's at the door with two of his men in the corridor. The hospital staff have been told not to ask questions, and so they don't.
In these pocket worlds I own, I'm king, and my word is law.
I sit in the chair beside the bed and look at her hand on the blanket. I want to take it in mine, but I don't. Not after what happened. Not after seeing how me storming into her life caused her to faint on my feet, for all the wrong reasons.
My gaze moves to her face, and my jaw tightens at the dried tear tracks on her cheeks. Almost two fucking decades, I've waited for this moment. Planned for it. But I just...I'm not good at doing normal things. Especially normal things that are good. And so I ended up making her cry, and for all the wrong reasons again.
Is this the part where I should accept that she can never be mine again?
That thought was the only thing that kept me going all these years.
Mia. Mine.
She doesn't know this of course, but every damn year I've been celebrating our anniversary even though our marriage didn't even last a day. Once a damn year, I give myself the luxury of closing my eyes for a few days and remember her.
Her hair under my hands. Her lips. The way she'd put her hand on my chest like she belonged there. I remember everything about her—but I also know better than to carry any keepsake of her.
No photographs, no anything that can be traced back to Juniper Lake. That's just Crime 101 when you're racing against time, and you want to get to your enemies before they get to you. You don't ever keep anything that can be used as ammunition against you.
Juniper, moglie mia. My wife.
That's the last thing I always think of before falling asleep.
A soft knock at the door, followed by Rollo's quiet voice, alerting me. Doctor incoming.
I rise to my feet, my mask sliding back into place as I hear another knock. I turn just as the doctor comes in.
“Mr. Sestini?”
The doctor is a woman in her fifties, gray hair pulled back, a clipboard tucked under her arm.
“Dr. Jimenez.” We've spoken earlier, and she's worked here long enough to know who I am...without actually knowing who I am. She knows enough not to ask what I don't want her to ask, is what I'm saying. “You have her results?”
“I do, yes, and it pretty much confirms what I suspected. Your wife had what we call a stress cardiomyopathy event. The medical name is Takotsubo cardiomyopathy. It can also be called broken heart syndrome, and that's the term you're more likely to see if you decide to look it up later, which I imagine you will.”
Is that for real? I can feel a muscle start ticking in my jaw. A broken fucking heart syndrome?
“It's triggered by an acute emotional event. The heart muscle weakens temporarily, and on imaging it can look very similar to a heart attack. But there is no permanent damage to the cardiac tissue, and recovery is generally complete. Mrs. Sestini's case is at the milder end of the spectrum. We expect her to be discharged within three to four days.”
“What does she need?”
“Rest. Quiet. No further acute stressors for a period of weeks. Anti-anxiety medication if she wants it, which is her decision. Continued monitoring with her regular physician for a few months. And the obvious.”
Dr. Jimenez looks at me sternly. “Whatever caused this—she shouldn't be exposed to it again.”
The woman has guts, I'll give her that. And so, even if her words sting, I force myself to nod. “Duly noted. Anything else?”
A slight smile cracks her expression. “You've already agreed not to have her exposed to the same causes, and I know a man like you takes your word seriously. That's more than enough. Have a good day, Mr. Sestini.”
The muscle in my cheek continues ticking as the door clicks shut behind her. Outside the room, Rollo's silhouette resumes its position on the other side of the frosted glass.
I glance back at my wife.
Broken heart syndrome.
It almost makes me laugh. But I don't. If laughter that doesn't come from the heart is enough to land Juniper in the hospital, I have a feeling it will kill someone like me...even if I don't have a fucking heart.