All Chapters of When the Fool Heals the Mafia: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle by the time Jerald returned to the café.But Cristy was gone.He stepped through the narrow black door, glancing around the dim, cozy interior. The soft jazz still played, the scent of roasted beans and something faintly floral hung in the air but the booth was empty. No trace of Cristy. Just silence and the low hum of rain against the windows.“Looking for someone?” a voice asked.Jerald turned sharply.From the doorway behind the counter, a man emerged. Tall. Broad-shouldered. His face was lined with scars, some old, some newer. He didn’t look like a barista. He didn’t look like he belonged in a café at all.Jerald straightened, wary. “Who are you?”The man didn’t answer at first. He simply handed Jerald the leather folder…...the same one Cristy had taken with her.“Cristy left this with me,” he said. “Told me to give it to you.”Jerald didn’t move. His fingers hovered just above the folder.“You know who I am?” he asked cautiously.The man gav

Chapter 24: The VIP WardThe countryside greeted them with a wash of salt-kissed air, the faint roar of waves carrying over the morning breeze. After two hours on the road, the truck finally rolled past a stretch of wildflowers bowing under the wind, their bright petals scattering color across the rolling green. Beyond them lay the sea vast, restless, and glittering under the first pale blush of dawn.Cristy leaned forward in her seat, eyes scanning the side mirror. She caught a faint flash of movement a glint of metal, the quick shadow of a vehicle keeping its distance“He’s still there,” she murmured, voice low so it wouldn’t carry.Amara didn’t look back. Her gaze stayed on the winding road ahead.“Let him follow. For now.”The truck slowed as they reached a towering iron gate, its black bars tangled with ivy, framed by stone pillars weathered by years of sea wind. The gate creaked open just wide enough to let them in. It closed behind them with a heavy, echoing clang that seemed t

After their quiet exchange outside the hospital room, silence fell between Zogo and Amara. It wasn’t the cold, awkward kind…...it was the heavy, unspoken kind. Both of them stood there, side by side, as if their words were too fragile to voice.Cristy appeared first, her phone in hand, scanning them briefly before looking away. Finn followed behind her, then Jerald and Brook, their faces set with purpose.“The cars are ready,” Brook announced. “And the personnel for the transfer are in position.”Zogo nodded once.Moments later, the hospital staff began carefully moving his mother out. She lay pale but regal on the stretcher, hooked to wires and machines, her breathing shallow but steady. Brook and Cristy flanked her on either side like loyal sentinels, guiding the transfer toward an unusual vehicle parked at the curb…...a sleek, high-tech ambulance modified far beyond standard medical transport. Its glossy black exterior gave no hint that inside, it was fitted with life-support syste

The old stone walls, smooth from hundreds of years of touch, glowed in the warm light of the braziers. Copper pipes ran across the ceiling like the veins of a giant machine, dripping with water from the cold air outside. On the benches, rows of glass bottles and jars stood in perfect order some new and shining, made with modern precision, others old and handmade, their glass warped with tiny ripples that caught light.Dr. Rafael stood at the center table, sleeves rolled up. The smell of sterile metal mixed with the sharp tongue of herbs and solvents. Across from him, Amara tied her hair back, laying out bundles of dried leaves, wrapped roots, and sealed jars of dark liquid.Finn and Zogo stayed close, watching every move. Zogo kept glancing toward the curtained corner where his mother rested in a large cedar tub. The water shimmered faintly from the earlier herbal soak Amara had prepared to keep the poison from spreading.“Alright,” Rafael said in a calm but firm tone. “From here on, e

The distillation apparatus hissed faintly, coils sweating under the wavering heat. A thin ribbon of steam curled upward, catching the light as though it wanted to be noticed. In the glass vessel, the pale antidote swirled, just for a second, into an odd pearly sheen before settling again into perfect clarity……too perfect, as if pretending nothing unusual had happened.Zogo noticed the subtle shift in Amara’s expression. She didn’t flinch, but her eyes narrowed in the barest way, reading the reaction like she was trying to solve a puzzle.He should have been focused on the antidote. Instead, his gaze kept drifting to the faint dusting of herb powder on her cheek, the steady precision in her hands, the way she leaned in with quiet determination.“Will it still work?” His voice was low, more to her than to himself.Her focus didn’t waver. “We’ll know soon enough.”When the last drop fell into the vial, she carried it with a kind of guarded reverence to the bedside. Zogo’s mother lay stil