Chapter 6 - The Night Vincent Heard No
Adrian's sister, Sofia, reached the hospital before us.
Her eight-year-old son, Luca, had suffered a severe allergic reaction during a school event.
Doctors stabilized him.
But Vincent didn't hear that part.
He saw his grandson behind glass surrounded by medical staff.
And Vincent Moretti became the man I'd met in the diner again.
“Get me the doctor.”
“Vincent—”
“Now.”
A nurse approached.
“Sir, you need to remain—”
“Do you know who I am?”
I stepped between them.
“Stop.”
Vincent looked at me.
“This isn't the time.”
“Exactly.”
“My grandson is in there.”
“And those people are helping him.”
“I need answers.”
“You'll get them.”
“Now.”
“No.”
The hallway went silent.
Sofia stared at us.
Adrian closed his eyes.
Vincent's voice became dangerously quiet.
“Emily.”
“Remember the diner?”
His jaw tightened.
“This isn't coffee.”
“No. It's more important. Which means throwing your weight around is even more useless.”
He stared at me.
I lowered my voice.
“You're scared.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
His eyes flashed.
“And that's okay.”
Vincent looked through the glass.
For the first time, he looked sixty-one.
Not powerful.
Not dangerous.
Just terrified.
“My daughter almost died when she was born,” he said quietly.
Sofia's eyes filled.
Vincent continued.
“I couldn't do anything then either.”
I stood beside him.
“Then don't make this about control.”
“What do I do?”
“Wait.”
“I hate waiting.”
“I know.”
“And if something happens?”
“We deal with what happens.”
He sat down.
Twenty minutes later, the doctor emerged.
Sofia stood first.
“Mrs. Romano?”
“Yes.”
“Your son is stable.”
She covered her mouth.
Vincent closed his eyes.
“He'll need observation overnight, but he's responding very well.”
Sofia hugged Adrian.
Then her father.
Vincent held her tightly.
Over her shoulder, he looked at me.
No words.
He didn't need them.
The following morning, I found him in the hospital cafeteria.
Two coffees sat on the table.
I approached cautiously.
“Should I be worried?”
He pushed one toward me.
“Fresh.”
I tasted it.
“Not burned.”
“I checked.”
I sat down.
Vincent looked at his cup.
“You were right.”
I nearly dropped mine.
“Could you repeat that?”
“No.”
“I'd like to record it.”
“Don't push your luck.”
I smiled.
Then he became serious.
“Twenty years ago, people stopped telling me the truth.”
“Because you punished them when they did.”
“Yes.”
“That's fixable.”
“Is it?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether you actually want to change.”
Vincent looked toward the pediatric floor.
“I think I do.”
Then he asked:
“Why didn't you fear me that first day?”
“I did.”
He looked surprised.
“I was terrified.”
“You didn't look terrified.”
“I'd learned something.”
“What?”
“There are worse things than powerful men.”
“Such as?”
“Losing people you love while standing there helpless.”
Vincent nodded slowly.
“I understand that now.”
My phone rang.
Mom.
I answered.
“Hey.”
Her voice sounded stronger than it had in months.
“Emily, the doctor just called.”
I stood.
“What happened?”
“They got the results.”
My chest tightened.
“And?”
She started crying.
But this time they were good tears.
The treatment was working better than expected.
Very well.
I sat back down.
Vincent watched me.
“Good news?”
I nodded.
“The best.”
He lifted his coffee.
“To your mother.”
I touched my cup to his.
“To Luca.”
Vincent smiled.
Then Adrian entered the cafeteria carrying flowers.
Vincent frowned.
“Those aren't for me, I assume.”
“No.”
“Good. I'd fire you.”
Adrian handed them to me.
“Dinner tonight?”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
Vincent groaned.
“I'm surrounded by romance.”
I looked at him.
“Get used to it.”
He pointed at me.
“Don't tell me what to do.”
I took another sip.
“No.”
May you like
And this time, Vincent laughed.
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