A ring

Episode Five

CHIARA

"Who was that?" Sofia asked, setting her coffee cup down on the table. "Chiara, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

My hand was still shaking as I lowered the phone from my ear. My chest felt tight, the breath catching hard in my throat.

"It was Lillian," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "My father had a heart attack."

Sofia's eyes widened. "What?"

"I have to get to the hospital." I was already grabbing my bag off the chair, my brain barely catching up to my hands.

"I'm coming with you," Sofia said, already reaching for her jacket.

We ran out to the car. I got behind the wheel, pulled out into traffic, my knuckles going white around the steering wheel. Every red light felt like an eternity.

"Chiara, breathe," Sofia said from the passenger seat, one hand braced on the dash. "You're going to get us both killed before we even make it to the hospital, and then who's going to yell at your father for scaring you like this?"

I let out a short, humorless laugh despite everything, my eyes fixed on the road. "He's the only real family I have left, Sof. If something happens to him—" I couldn't finish it.

"Nothing is happening to him," Sofia said, firmer now. "You hear me? Eyes on the road. We'll deal with whatever it is when we get there."

The hospital smelled like every hospital does, bleach trying and failing to cover something worse underneath it. Sofia stayed close beside me from the parking garage all the way to the waiting room doors.

Lillian was already there when we arrived, mascara streaked down one side of her face, her phone clutched in both hands like it might ring with good news if she just held on tight enough. Eleanor sat beside her, hands folded too neatly for a woman whose husband had just collapsed. Levi stood by the window, still in yesterday's suit.

He spotted me first. "Chiara. I came as soon as Lillian called me. She said your father had a heart attack."

I didn't even look at him. I walked past him like he hadn't spoken at all.

Lillian stood the second she saw me. For a second I thought she might actually hug me, and some old, stupid part of me almost let her.

"Chiara." Her voice cracked. "I didn't know who else to call."

"Where is he?" I asked.

"They took him back twenty minutes ago. Nobody's telling us anything."

Eleanor didn't stand. She looked me over once, cool and assessing, the way she'd looked at me my whole life.

"You have some nerve, showing up here," she said, her voice pitched low enough that only the people closest to her could hear it, which somehow made it worse.

"He's my father, Eleanor."

"He's your father who collapsed less than a day after his own daughter ran out on her wedding and disappeared for the night." Her voice stayed level, but there was something building underneath it. "Do you have any idea what that kind of shock does to a man his age? To his heart?"

"You think I did this to him."

"I think you weren't here to stop it, and I think we both know why."

"I found Levi with my sister an hour before the ceremony, Eleanor. Forgive me for not staying to smile through the photos."

"You're accusing Lillian of something she would never do," Eleanor said sharply. "I raised that girl. I know her."

Her hand moved before I even registered it, sharp and sudden across my cheek, the sound of it cutting through the whole waiting room. Somewhere behind her, I heard Lillian gasp.

For one second, my whole body went hot and then very, very cold.

I didn't cry. I didn't step back. I stood there, my cheek stinging, and looked at her the way I'd never once let myself look at her in twenty-five years.

"You do not get to touch me," I said, my voice low and shaking, but steady underneath the shake. "Not now. Not ever again. I have spent my entire life letting you decide what I was allowed to feel about the way you've treated me, and I am done. If you want to blame someone for what happened to him, look at the man who's been lying to me for seven years, or look in a mirror. But don't you ever raise your hand to me again."

The waiting room had gone completely silent. Even Eleanor looked, for the first time I could remember, like she didn't have a response ready.

Lillian was the one who moved first, her eyes brimming over, closing the distance between us with her arms already reaching for me. "Why are you treating me like this?" she said, her voice breaking. "I could never betray you like that, Chiara. You know me. You know I would never—"

"Oh, please." Sofia stepped between us before I could even open my mouth, her voice flat with disgust. "You should be ashamed of yourself, crying about being treated badly after you slept with your sister's fiancé on her wedding day. Save the performance for someone who didn't see this coming."

Lillian's face crumpled, but she reached for me anyway, her hands closing around my arm. I pulled away before she could finish the gesture, stepping back until there was real space between us again.

I didn't wait around for anyone to find their voice after that. I walked straight past all of them toward the restroom down the hall, needing thirty seconds alone before I did something else I couldn't take back.

When I came out, Levi was leaning against the wall outside the door, waiting for me.

"Chiara, are you seriously ignoring me right now?"

I tried to walk past him. He stepped into my path.

"Move out of my way, Levi."

"Chiara. How could you do this to me?" His voice was low, wounded, the same tone he used to close difficult clients. "You left me standing at the altar like a fool."

I almost laughed. "Oh, really."

His face reddened. "What do you mean, oh really? If we had problems, you could have told me. After the wedding, we would have fixed it, baby." He reached for something like control and mostly missed it.

"We can never get married, Levi."

"What are you talking about?" He blinked at me like I'd started speaking another language. "You're my fiancée. I know you love me, and I love you, so don't worry about whatever made you run off. I forgive you, baby. We'll get married again, properly this time."

He grabbed my left hand before I could stop him, and his eyes went straight to the ring.

"Don't touch me." I pulled back. He didn't let go.

"What the fuck is this."

"A ring. Can't you see?"

"That's not the ring I gave you. So whose fucking ring is this?"

"My husband's."

"Your what?"

"I'm tired of repeating myself, Levi. If your ears don't work properly, we're already in a hospital. I'm sure they can take a look." I rolled my eyes, and that seemed to be what finally broke whatever was left of his composure. His hands closed around my shoulders, hard enough to hurt.

"What nonsense is this? What husband? We were supposed to get married. Don't tell me you married some punk just to spite me."

"Let go of me," I snapped, trying to twist free.

"I think it would be wise to let go of my wife, Mr. Moretti."

The voice was deep and cold, cutting through the hallway before I even turned my head. Levi's grip loosened instantly. I looked over to find Alessio standing a few feet away, still in yesterday's suit, watching Levi's hands on my shoulders with an expression that made the temperature in the hallway feel ten degrees colder.

"Who the hell are you," Levi said, though the certainty had already gone out of his voice.

"Someone who is about to seriously reconsider his patience if you don't take your hands off her in the next three seconds."

Levi let go like I'd suddenly caught fire. He looked between me and Alessio, then down at my ring, his face twisting into something ugly.

"Is this the punk you married just to spite me, Chiara?"

"Careful," Alessio said, his voice mild in a way that was somehow worse than shouting.

"Don't flatter yourself so much, Levi. Why would I marry someone to spite you? You're not even worth it," I spat out.

Levi's jaw worked, but for once in his life, he didn't have anything smooth ready to say.

I let Alessio walk me back toward the waiting room without arguing, mostly because my legs had started shaking and I didn't trust myself to manage the distance alone.

The second we stepped through the doorway, Eleanor rose halfway out of her chair, her eyes darting from Alessio's hand at the small of my back to the ring on my finger to his face, doing the math in real time.

"Who is this," she said, though it was clear from her voice she'd already guessed.

"Alessio Vitiello." He didn't offer his hand. "Chiara's husband. I would have said it's a pleasure to meet you, but given what I just watched in that hallway, I'll save that lie for another day."

"Chiara's husband," Eleanor repeated, faint, like the word physically hurt to say. "Is this a joke?"

A nurse appeared in the doorway before anyone could say anything else. "Mr. Vance is stable. He's asking for family."

Alessio's hand found mine before I could move. "I'll be here," he said quietly, nowhere near as calm as he was trying to sound. "Go."

Eleanor was on her feet instantly, smoothing her blouse, wiping under her eyes even though I hadn't seen her cry once. Lillian followed close behind her, too rattled by what she'd just watched to say another word to either of us. I went last, Sofia squeezing my hand once before staying back in the waiting room with Alessio.

Inside, Eleanor was already at the bedside, her voice pitched into something soft and trembling that hadn't existed thirty seconds ago in the hallway. "Arthur, my God, how could you scare me like that." She pressed his hand to her cheek. Lillian leaned in from the other side, crying properly now, wrapping her arms around him like he might disappear if she let go.

I stood near the door and watched the two of them fold themselves around him, watched him pat Lillian's back and murmur something to Eleanor that made her laugh softly through her tears, and felt exactly the way I had felt at every family dinner, every holiday, every moment of my entire life that required the three of them to be a family and me to be something adjacent to one.

It was almost a full minute before he even looked past them and found me standing by the door.

"Chiara." His voice was thin, but it cut through the room anyway. "Come here."

I crossed the room slowly. Eleanor and Lillian stepped back just enough to let me get close, though neither of them moved far.

"Why did you leave the wedding like that?" he asked, his eyes searching my face. "Chiara, what kind of behavior was that?"

I opened my mouth to answer him.

Then his eyes dropped to my hand, and every bit of warmth drained out of his face.

"What's that on your finger?"