Beneath the Last Card Lay My Ticket to Sicily

Halfway through my 13th shot of vodka, a sharp cramp seized my stomach.

I bent down to get my stomach medicine from my bag.

My fingers had barely touched the box when Vera spoke.

"This drink is so strong. I feel dizzy..."

All she'd had that night was two sips of a light fruity cocktail, but all three men jumped up at once.

Allen took off his suit jacket and draped it over her.

Damon crouched in front of her and anxiously asked if she felt sick.

Leo took the medicine from my hand, shook out two pills, and handed them to her.

Fighting the cramps in my stomach, I put my hand over his to stop him.

"That's my stomach medicine. She can't just take it."

Leo shook me off, annoyed.

"She feels this awful, and you're making a fuss over two pills?"

"Taking random medicine will only make her feel worse."

Leo's expression turned cold. He tossed the medicine into the trash.

"Then go buy another box at the pharmacy nearby."

He helped Vera to the restroom so she could make herself throw up.

Damon glanced at my pale face, sighed, and pushed the half-finished shot toward me.

"I know today's been rough on you. Just be a good girl and finish this one. A bet's a bet. Tomorrow, I'll take you to pick out an engagement ring to make it up to you, okay?"

I looked at the half-finished shot of vodka.

The man who had once sworn he'd protect me forever now only had eyes for another woman.

Just then, a server came over with the bill and asked how I wanted to pay for the broken glasses.

When Vera won, she got so excited that she knocked over a whole row of glasses. It was a mess.

But Allen was already helping Vera to the door.

"Eva, take care of this. We're taking Vera to the hospital."

"I don't feel well either."

For the first time, I tried to stop him from leaving.

Allen looked back at me and frowned.

"You can hold your liquor. What's a little vodka going to do to you?

"Vera never drinks. If something happens to her, who's going to take responsibility?"

Leo immediately joined in.

"Can't you see Vera feels so awful she can barely stand? Do you have to make a scene right now?"

I didn't answer.

The three of them hurried out with Vera between them.

Not once did any of them ask why I kept holding my stomach.

I paid for the glasses, gathered everything the other four had left behind, and walked out of the club.

The pain in my stomach grew worse.

When I passed a pharmacy, I went in alone to buy medicine.

The pharmacist took one look at my pale face and told me to get to a hospital immediately.

Right then, my phone buzzed.

My biological brother, Matteo Caruso, had texted from Sicily to ask whether I wanted to come home early.

He said our parents couldn't wait to see me.

My eyes stung. I texted back yes.

Soon after, Vera posted a photo in the group chat.

She was lying in a hospital bed in the observation unit.

Allen held a glass of warm water, Leo held a bowl of hot rice porridge, and Damon sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her temples.

She wrote,

"I'm so lucky. Whenever I feel awful, someone's always here for me."

Damon replied,

"No more drinking for you from now on."

He'd said the exact same thing to me three years ago.

Back then, I was hospitalized with gastritis.

He stayed with me all night and swore he'd never let me touch another drop.

He even got rid of every bottle of alcohol in the house.

And tonight, he was the one pushing shot after shot of vodka toward me.

I didn't confront him.

I simply left their things at the nurses' station and took a cab to another hospital.

After reviewing my test results, the doctor asked when my family would arrive.

I glanced down the empty hallway.

"Nobody's coming.

"It's just me."