Not Afraid to Start Over
At three in the morning, I was urgently called to an underground hospital in Verdanza to operate on the mafia Don's only son.
But the man lying on the bed was my husband, the same man who had sworn before leaving that he was going on a business trip, promised he would drink less, and told me not to worry.
Outside the operating room, a young woman clutched my sleeve and nearly broke down in tears. "Doctor, please save my fiancé! He got shot while protecting me. We can pay anything!"
A well-dressed middle-aged woman quickly pulled her back. "Sylvia, calm down! Think about the baby."
At that moment, I came to a horrifying realization.
The man I had supported for ten years with my scalpel
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