2

Early the next morning, my mother walked into my hospital room with a batch of freshly baked chocolate cookies.

I smelled that familiar sweetness and forced myself to sit up.

When I was little, my mother's chocolate cookies were my favorite thing in the world. Every time I came to the hospital for a clotting factor infusion, she'd bring a batch and stay with me.

Back then, she used to kiss my forehead tenderly and tell me I was the Leone family's most precious jewel.

Now she stood more than three feet away from me and asked, "Have you seen Sofia's necklace? It was your grandmother's. It's supposed to keep Sofia safe during surgery."

I pushed down the ache in my chest. "No."

My mother frowned. "You must have it. Sofia came to see you this morning, and when she got back, she couldn't find it."

Suspecting I'd hidden Sofia's necklace, my mother set the cookies on the table, threw back my blanket, and searched the bed carefully.

Once she'd patted me down from head to toe, she started rummaging through the things on the table.

She swept the painkillers and test reports off the table and onto the floor.

She accidentally knocked the cookies down too. When I bent to pick them up, I yanked on the IV line in my hand. Blood immediately began flowing from the needle site.

I shook so badly from the pain that I couldn't even pick up a single bag of cookies.

My mother sighed. "Didn't they already give you an IV? Why are you still so weak?"

I said nothing. To my mother, being hooked up to an IV meant I was fine.

The doctors had told my family countless times over the years how serious my illness was. They still thought an IV would fix it.

I said quietly, "Mom, I might die after the transplant."

My mother stopped and stared at me, wide-eyed. A moment later, she calmly picked the cookies up off the floor.

"You've been in the hospital so many times. As long as you get your clotting factor on time, nothing will go wrong. Stop scaring yourself.

"And that surgery you had last year? The doctors warned us more than once that you might not survive, and you're fine now, aren't you?"

I pressed my lips together and said nothing, my eyes fixed on the cookies in her hands.

But a moment later, she turned to leave. "Get some rest. Sofia said she wants chocolate cookies, and they'll be cold if I wait any longer.

"The maid will bring you something to eat soon."

After she left, a nurse came in to tend to my hand, which was still bleeding. "You've been here this long, and no one in your family has stayed with you?" she grumbled.

I gave a bitter little laugh. "They have more important things to do."

Since Sofia had been admitted, my father and Dylan had put all the family's illicit business and meetings with other families on hold. They spent every day keeping her company.

In their eyes, even the survival of the whole Leone family meant nothing next to Sofia's life. Mine mattered even less.

That afternoon, a few bodyguards in black came into my room and started packing up my things.

I struggled to sit up. "What are you doing?"

The head bodyguard gave me a respectful nod. "I'm sorry, miss. The Don ordered us to move you to another room. Your sister says she's scared to be alone in her room at night and wants you to move in with her."

When Matteo heard what was happening, he rushed over and raised a hand to stop them. "Absolutely not! Ms. Leone needs complete rest. Her condition is critical!"

The head bodyguard shifted just enough to reveal the gun at his waist. "Doctor, this is a Leone family matter."

I had pathetically few things. Just a few bottles of painkillers and a gold pocket watch.

Dylan had given it to me for my 16th birthday.

Sofia had once said my birthday was only three days from the anniversary of Enzo's death and that seeing me celebrate made her sad.

So after that, I never celebrated my birthday again.

They wheeled me into Sofia's luxurious private suite. Sofia was lying in a big bed piled with velvet cushions.

Soothing music played on the radio. My father was patiently brushing her hair, and my mother was pouring her a glass of milk.

I, on the other hand, was put on a narrow, rock-hard folding cot in the corner of the room.

Dylan made up the cot for me. "Sofia's scared about tomorrow's surgery. And if you're in here, it's easier for the family to look after you too."

I lowered my head and didn't say a word.

Sofia leaned against my mother and smiled at me. "Aria, those hospital cots are so hard. Why don't you sleep in my bed with me?"

She made the offer without moving over an inch.

My mother immediately scolded her. "Two people in one bed? What if she hurts you?"

My brother's voice went cold too. "Aria, you're the older sister. Don't take advantage of her."

They only worried about me hurting her. It never occurred to them how easily I could get hurt too.

I lay in the corner of the room like a piece of furniture, watching them be one big happy family.

That night, Sofia hugged Dylan and cried softly. "I'm having surgery tomorrow, and I'm so scared... What if I don't wake up?"

My brother stroked her hair over and over, then took a gift out of his jacket.

It was a gold-plated saint's medal.

"A priest blessed it. I held it while I prayed in church all night. God will protect you, Sofia."

Two weeks earlier, I'd been too sick to get out of bed. When I asked my brother to take my own saint's medal to a priest for a blessing, he said he didn't have time.

So it wasn't that he didn't have time. He just didn't want to spend it on me.

My brother turned to me. "Sofia lost her necklace. This is to make up for it. Don't fight with her over it."

I smiled and let it go. "Got it."

The truth was, I'd never picked a fight with her. They just always assumed I was in the wrong.

Besides, I was about to give up my own life. A saint's medal hardly mattered.