A Visit to the Hospital

The black Rolls-Royce glided through the chaotic, sunlit streets of New York in complete, suffocating silence.

Lorrie sat pressed against the passenger window, her fingers tightly clasped in her lap as she watched the city blur past. Across from her, Lorenzo worked seamlessly on his tablet, his sharp eyes moving rapidly over columns of data, barely acknowledging her presence. It was as if she wasn't even there—just another piece of luxury upholstery in his custom vehicle.

Finally, the quiet became too heavy to bear, and she broke the silence. "You don't talk much, do you?"

"I talk when necessary," Lorenzo replied, not looking up from his screen.

"So... talking to me isn't necessary?"

"No."

Lorrie sighed heavily, leaning her head against the cool glass. "This is going to be a very long year."

"It will."

His answer came so quickly, so entirely devoid of hesitation, that she couldn't help but glare at him. "Do you always enjoy irritating people this much?"

"I don't do it intentionally."

"That's somehow even worse."

For the briefest moment, the corner of Matteo's mouth twitched. Seated in the front passenger seat beside the driver, the underboss caught the entire sharp exchange through the rearview mirror. It was fascinating. In all the years he had known Lorenzo, he had never seen anyone allowed to speak to the mafia king with such blatant disrespect—yet here Lorrie was, entirely unbothered and very much still alive.

The car purred to a halt outside the grand facade of St. Gabriel Medical Center. The moment the chauffeur opened the door, Lorrie threw herself out of the vehicle, hurrying toward the sliding glass doors.

Lorenzo followed a few paces behind her at a measured, unhurried stride. The moment they stepped into the main lobby, the atmosphere shifted. Doctors in white coats and nurses carrying charts froze the instant they recognized his imposing silhouette. One after another, staff members bowed their heads and greeted him with hushed, reverent respect.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Dimitri."

"Welcome back to the facility, Mr. Dimitri."

Lorrie slowed her pace, looking around at the sudden display of deference. "They all know you?"

"I own the hospital," Lorenzo stated flatly.

She stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth opening slightly. "You... what?"

"I acquired the medical network three years ago," he continued, walking right past her as though he had merely mentioned the morning weather forecast.

Lorrie hurried to catch up with his long strides, utterly stunned. Owning a massive New York hospital network—to Lorenzo Dimitri, it was just another mundane Tuesday.

On the exclusive fifth floor, Lorrie pushed open the door to the private suite, her breath catching. "Mom!"

Her mother already looked significantly healthier than she had the previous day. The heavy oxygen support had been reduced to a simple nasal cannula, a faint trace of color had returned to her hollow cheeks, and large vases of fresh, vibrant flowers decorated the sunlit room.

Leo jumped up from his armchair, dropping his school bag, and threw his arms tightly around his sister's waist. "You came! I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, buddy," Lorrie whispered, squeezing him back as tears pricked her eyes.

Her mother offered a weak but genuine smile from the bed. "The specialists started my intensive treatment again early this morning, Lorrie. They said our entire outstanding balance has already been completely settled."

A tear slipped down Lorrie's cheek. She nodded, slowly looking over her shoulder toward the doorway. Lorenzo stood quietly near the entrance, his hands buried deep in his trousers pockets, his expression an unreadable mask. He wasn't waiting for a tearful thank you. He wasn't smiling to comfort them. He simply stood there in his dark tailored suit, a silent sentinel watching the scene unfold.

Her mother struggled to sit up a bit straighter against her pillows, her eyes softening. "You must be Lorenzo."

He inclined his head with cold, aristocratic politeness. "Mrs. Elmundo."

"Thank you," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "You saved my life."

"I protected my investment," Lorenzo replied.

The words landed like a block of ice in the warm room. Lorrie's relief vanished, replaced by a sudden, sharp sting of bitterness. Of course. An investment. A business asset to ensure his contract bride remained compliant. Nothing more.

Her mother, however, merely nodded, seeing past the armor. "Even if your reason was strictly business, young man... you still chose to help when no one else would."

Lorenzo didn't offer a reply, his gaze shifting to the window.

Outside in the quiet corridor, Matteo leaned his back against the wall, crossing his arms as Lorenzo stepped out of the room. "You know, you could have just accepted the woman's thank you, boss."

Lorenzo’s steel-gray gaze remained fixed on the far end of the hallway. "It changes nothing."

"You keep telling yourself that."

"It doesn't, Matteo."

Matteo chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Then why did you personally vet and approve the absolute best oncology specialist in the state for her? Why move her out of the ward and into a VIP private suite? And why order the hospital director to report her daily charts directly to your personal phone?"

Lorenzo finally snapped his head toward his underboss, his eyes narrowing. "You ask far too many questions."

"And you avoid far too many answers."

Before Lorenzo could fire back, the heavy vibration of his phone cut through the tension. He pulled it from his pocket and answered immediately. "Speak."

Lorrie, watching through the small glass pane of the hospital door, saw his expression lock down into a terrifying, lethal darkness.

"When?" Lorenzo demanded. A brief pause followed as the voice on the other end reported. "Secure the perimeter. I'll handle it personally."

He ended the call with a sharp flick of his wrist.

"What happened?" Matteo asked, his playful demeanor vanishing instantly.

"Our main shipping warehouse in Brooklyn," Lorenzo said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet baritone. "There was a targeted explosion ten minutes ago."

Matteo’s jaw tightened. "The Romano family?"

"We'll know soon enough." Lorenzo glanced back through the glass toward the room, where Lorrie was currently laughing softly at something her little brother had said. For a fraction of a second, his eyes lingered on the genuine smile lighting up her face. Then, the shutters came down, and he looked away. "We leave for Brooklyn in five minutes."

Inside the hospital room, Leo leaned in close to Lorrie, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "So... your new husband is really scary, Sis."

Lorrie couldn't help but let out a soft, tired laugh. "Very scary, Leo."

"But..." Leo smirked, nudging her arm. "I think he keeps looking at you when you aren't paying attention."

Lorrie shook her head, dismissing the thought completely. "Trust me, buddy. He isn't. I'm just a business deal to him."

Outside the room, Lorenzo checked his luxury watch for the third time in sixty seconds. He wasn't looking at Lorrie. He was simply ensuring his legal responsibility stayed safe and secure. That was all it was. At least, that was the precise lie he kept telling himself.

As the heavy black Rolls-Royce finally sped away from the hospital curb minutes later, neither of them noticed a striking blonde woman standing across the street. Large, dark sunglasses completely obscured her eyes, and a sleek phone was pressed firmly to her ear.

Bianca Moretti smiled coldly, watching the luxury vehicle merge into traffic.

"She's with him right now," Bianca whispered into the line, her voice dripping with venom. She paused, listening to the instructions from the other end, her grin widening. "So... the pathetic little contract bride has finally left the safety of the estate. Perfect. We can begin."