Chapter 9 - The AftermathThree days later, the private suite on the fourth floor of St. Augustine Hospital looked less like a medical room and more like a family living room.
The television played cartoons quietly in the corner. On the pull-out couch, Dante was sound asleep, curled up under a blue blanket, his breathing deep and peaceful.
By the window, Marco sat propped up in bed, looking significantly better despite the fact that Dr. Chen had practically threatened to tie him to the mattress for tearing his abdominal sutures during the rail yard firefight.
The door opened softly, and Elena walked in carrying a tray with a cup of black coffee and a bowl of chicken soup. She wore her white lab coat over her scrubs, but her posture was lighter, the crushing weight of a decade finally lifted from her shoulders.
"You're eating hospital soup again," Elena noted softly, setting the tray down on the bedside table. "Which means you're either recovering well or you're trying to win sympathy points from the pediatric surgeon."
Marco smiled, catching her hand as she tried to pull away, gently pulling her down to sit on the edge of the mattress. "I don't need sympathy points. I have my son sleeping twenty feet away, and the only woman I've ever loved standing right in front of me."
Elena looked down at their joined hands. "Julian called this morning from Zurich."
Marco's eyebrows raised. "Oh? What did my favorite rogue accountant have to say?"
"He said that if you ever try to fake his death again without telling his sister, he's going to fly to Chicago and punch you in your freshly stitched abdomen," Elena said with a dry, teasing smile. "He also said... thank you for keeping us safe."
Marco shifted slightly, wincing just a fraction before reaching into the drawer of the bedside table. He pulled out a small, velvet-lined box—a box he had managed to have Victor retrieve from his New York safe deposit box the day after the rescue.
He opened it, revealing a ring that hadn't seen the light of day in ten years. A platinum band set with a single, brilliant diamond—the one Elena had left on the penthouse counter in the rain.
"I didn't lose hope for ten years, Elena," Marco said, his voice dropping into a rich, steady baritone that made her heart race just like it had when she was twenty-four. "I carried your note in my wallet every single day, praying for a second chance. We have a son who needs us both. And I am never letting you walk out into the rain again."
May you like
Elena looked at the ring, then up into his dark, unwavering eyes. The past was complicated, the danger was real, but as she listened to the soft breathing of their son across the room, she knew her place was right here.
She held out her left hand. "Put it on, Vitali. But if you ever keep secrets from me again, I'm performing your next surgery without anesthesia."
