I Won’t Save The Sister They Chose

Nico’s face froze.

“What did you say?”

I closed the file. Pushed it back across the table.

“I’m not saving your sister.”

The clinic was dead silent.

Nico just stared at me. His jaw tightened.

Isabella sat in her wheelchair. Pale, but her breathing was steady. Her eyes were clear.

Ten years. They’d done well for themselves.

Nico was running the Vitale empire. Isabella was the family’s precious princess.

And they didn’t recognize me.

The girl they once held at gunpoint was now the underground doctor in surgical gloves.

“I know you’re the best mob doc in Chicago. It wasn't easy finding you.” Nico said.

“Don't worry about the money. Name your price. Just fix Isabella.”

A metal briefcase full of cash hit my desk.

I glanced down at it. Then up at him. My eyes were ice.

“I have my rules. And I’m not taking her case.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He froze for a second, then slammed his hand on the table. The cash inside rattled.

“My guys say you can pull a man back from a fatal gunshot! My sister has some chest pains, and you’re telling me you can’t save her?”

Isabella coughed. She weakly tugged on Nico’s suit sleeve, her eyes getting red. “Nico, forget it... I’m not afraid to die. I just don't want to see you begging someone for me...”

The same old damsel in distress act. Just like the time she framed me for stealing a family heirloom.

Nico’s heart broke for her. He grabbed her hand.

When he looked back at me, his eyes were poisoned knives.

“Doctor. Not enough money, is that it? Fine. New deal.”

“You save her today, and tomorrow you get the smuggling profits from the Southside docks. And control of those two streets. Goes straight to your boss.”

“Is that a big enough chip?”

The soldiers behind him quietly reached for the guns under their jackets. They held their breath.

I didn’t even look up.

“Nico Vitale. The wound matters. Not the money.”

“I’m not saving your sister. Take your money, your men, and get out.”

Nico sneered. He leaned over my desk, contempt dripping from his voice.

“Just admit you can’t fix her. ‘Dawn.’ What a joke. All hype.”

“Brother, stop... my chest hurts so much...”

Isabella clutched her chest, gasping for air. Her face went white as she collapsed in her wheelchair.

“Isabella!”

Nico panicked. He yelled for his bodyguards.

At the door, he turned back. He mouthed two words at me: Just wait.

After they left, I touched the cold family crest against my neck.

The next morning.

I had just finished bandaging up some kid who’d gotten hurt when the clinic's glass door shattered.

A flood of cops stormed in, full of rage.

“Aurora Cavaleri. You’re under arrest.”

I put down my scalpel. Looked up at him.

“For what?”

“For what?” The lead sergeant sneered. He kicked over a sterilization cabinet. Tools and glass went everywhere.

The little boy screamed. The sergeant shoved him aside.

“We got a tip about illegal surgeries here. Tear this place apart!”

My eyes dropped to his wrist. A brand-new gold watch.

Then, on his finger, I saw it. A heavy gold pinky ring with the Vitale family crest.

I got it.

“How much did the Vitale family pay you?” My voice was flat.

His face changed. Then, pure rage. He drew his gun and jammed it into my shoulder.

“What the hell are you talking about! This is a direct order from the precinct! Now you’re coming with us!”