Chapter 2 - Twelve Black Cars
Rachel survived the first surgery.
Barely.
Her daughter’s heartbeat stabilized.
At 2:11 a.m., I finally sat down.
Nathan handed me a paper cup of coffee.
“You look terrible.”
“So do you.”
“I’m a surgeon. It’s expected.”
“You have a bruise forming on your shoulder.”
He looked at it.
“Occupational hazard.”
“That’s not part of your occupation.”
“It apparently is now.”
I laughed despite myself.
Then one of the younger nurses hurried into the break room.
“Claire.”
I looked up.
Her face was pale.
“What?”
“You need to see this.”
We walked toward the emergency entrance.
Twelve black SUVs lined the curb.
My coffee suddenly tasted like metal.
Nathan appeared beside me.
“Bellinis?”
“Unless the hospital started valet parking for funeral directors.”
The security chief approached.
“Dr. Cole. Ms. Bennett. Administration wants both of you in Conference Three.”
“Why?” I asked.
He hesitated.
“Salvatore Bellini is here.”
Nathan sighed.
“Of course he is.”
Conference Three was already crowded.
The hospital administrator, legal counsel, head of security, and two men I didn’t recognize stood around the table.
Salvatore Bellini sat at the far end.
He was in his early sixties.
Silver hair.
Black overcoat.
No visible anger.
That somehow made him more intimidating.
Marco stood near the window with his hand bandaged.
Salvatore looked at us.
“Dr. Cole?”
Nathan nodded.
“Mr. Bellini.”
“And Claire Bennett.”
“That’s me.”
Salvatore looked at his son.
“Tell me what happened.”
Marco crossed his arms.
“They disrespected me.”
Salvatore did not react.
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I was injured.”
“And?”
“They refused to treat me.”
I spoke.
“Because we had a pregnant woman actively crashing.”
Marco turned toward me.
“You keep talking like I was asking you to let her die.”
“You demanded we abandon her.”
“I demanded a doctor.”
“We had one trauma surgeon.”
Salvatore looked at Nathan.
“My son touched you?”
Nathan answered without hesitation.
“Yes.”
“First?”
“Yes.”
Marco scoffed.
“He embarrassed me.”
Salvatore finally looked angry.
Not at us.
At Marco.
“You stopped an emergency room because your hand hurt?”
“My hand might be broken.”
“A woman and her unborn child were dying.”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
“You weren’t there.”
“No. I was across town attending a fundraiser for this hospital.”
That silenced the room.
Salvatore stood.
“You know what I learned twenty years ago, Marco?”
Marco said nothing.
“You can own buildings. Businesses. Politicians.”
The hospital attorney looked uncomfortable.
Salvatore continued.
“But when your heart stops, none of them matter.”
He pointed toward Nathan.
“The doctor does.”
Then toward me.
“The nurse does.”
Marco stared at him.
“You’re taking their side?”
“I’m taking the side of common sense.”
Marco laughed bitterly.
“Great.”
Salvatore’s voice dropped.
“Apologize.”
Everyone froze.
Marco looked at his father.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“To them?”
“To every person you frightened downstairs.”
Marco shook his head.
“No.”
Salvatore stepped closer.
The room changed.
His voice stayed quiet.
“If you need men with guns to force a nurse to respect you, then you’re not powerful.”
Marco’s face darkened.
“Enough.”
“No. You embarrassed yourself.”
Marco looked toward me.
“You enjoying this?”
I answered honestly.
“No.”
That surprised him.
“I have better things to do than watch you fight with your father.”
Salvatore almost smiled.
Marco didn’t.
I continued.
“If you want to make this right, stop thinking tonight was about you.”
Marco stared at me.
I pointed upstairs.
“Rachel Monroe might wake up without her baby.”
That landed.
His eyes shifted.
Salvatore saw it.
“So,” he said, “you will apologize.”
Marco took a long breath.
Then looked at Nathan.
“I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”
Nathan nodded once.
Marco looked at me.
“And I shouldn’t have threatened you.”
“Correct.”
He frowned.
“That’s all I get?”
“What were you expecting?”
“Forgiveness.”
“That comes later.”
Salvatore actually laughed.
For half a second, Marco looked offended.
Then an alarm sounded overhead.
A nurse ran past the conference room.
“Code blue, ICU!”
My radio crackled.
“Claire, Trauma needs you.”
I reached for the door.
Marco spoke behind me.
“The pregnant woman?”
I turned.
“No.”
Then I paused.
“But I’m going back to work.”
I looked at Salvatore.
May you like
“So should everyone else.”
For the first time that night, a Bellini did what I asked without argument.
