Chương 5
“I need time.”
Clara stared at him.
“Time is something people ask for when they know they have done something wrong.”
“I have done many things wrong.”
The honesty surprised her.
It was not what she expected.
She expected denial.
A polished explanation.
A powerful man controlling the conversation.
Instead, he admitted it.
That made it harder.
“Are you dangerous?”
The question came quietly.
Dominic did not move.
“Yes.”
The answer was immediate.
Clara looked at him.
Most people would have lied.
That was the strange part.
He did not.
“Then why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
The room became silent.
“Then why are you here?”
Dominic looked toward the window.
Outside, cars moved through the city.
People walked to work.
Someone probably complained about the weather.
Life continued without knowing that a woman in a hospital bed was asking a man feared by many people why she should believe him.
“Because the people who hurt you know something I do not.”
Clara frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I am not the only person keeping secrets.”
Before she could respond, Dominic’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
The change in his face was small.
But Clara saw it.
“Who is it?”
He did not answer.
The call ended.
Then another began.
This time, Dominic answered.
“What?”
A pause.
His eyes moved to Clara.
And that was when she knew.
Whatever was happening was not far away.
It was already here.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“Do not touch anything until I arrive.”
He ended the call.
Clara watched him.
“What happened?”
Dominic picked up his coat.
“Someone broke into your apartment.”
Her stomach dropped.
“My apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Was anything stolen?”
Dominic hesitated.
“No.”
That frightened her more.
“Then what were they looking for?”
Dominic looked at the folder on the table.
The one containing photographs of her.
The one containing a truth he had not yet given her.
“I think,” he said quietly, “they were looking for something they believe you have.”
And for the first time since waking up, Clara saw genuine fear in Dominic Rossi’s eyes.
And for the first time since waking up, Clara saw genuine fear in Dominic Rossi’s eyes.
It was not the fear of losing power.
It was not the fear of an enemy.
It was the fear of being too late.
“Stay here,” he said.
Clara almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was impossible.
“You cannot seriously think I am going to stay in a hospital bed while someone breaks into my apartment.”
Dominic stared at her.
“Yes.”
“That was not permission for you to ignore the sentence.”
“You are recovering from surgery.”
“I am aware.”
“You were shot seven times.”
“I was there.”
“You can barely walk without pain.”
She looked down at the blanket.
That was the part she hated.
Not the pain.
The reminder that her body had limits.
Before the shooting, she could work fourteen-hour days.
She could carry trays, take buses across the city, handle angry customers, and pretend everything was fine.
Now she needed help standing.
Now strangers watched her walk.
Now a man she barely knew was deciding what dangers she was allowed to face.
“I am not a package you can move around,” she said.
Dominic’s expression changed.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Because you have spent three days arranging my life without asking me anything.”
“That was to keep you alive.”
“And now?”
He paused.
“Now I am trying to do the same.”
Clara looked away.
That answer bothered her because she believed him.
A lie would have been easier.
She knew how to fight lies.
Truth was more complicated.
Enzo appeared at the door.
“We need to go.”
Dominic nodded.
Then he looked at Clara.
“Call Isabella.”
“Why?”
“Because she will keep talking to you until I return.”
“That is your plan?”
“Yes.”
“That is terrible.”
“It works.”
Enzo walked away before Clara could respond.
She watched Dominic follow.
Then she grabbed the phone beside her bed.
She did not call Isabella.
She called the only person who had been honest with her since waking up.
“Dominic.”
He stopped in the hallway.
She had not expected him to answer so quickly.
“What?”
“If you find something in my apartment, you tell me.”
His face remained unreadable.
“Clara.”
“No.”
Her voice was sharper than she expected.
She swallowed.
“No more protecting me by hiding things.”
Dominic said nothing.
“That is how people make children feel safe.”
The words hit him.
She saw it.
Only for a second.
But she saw it.
“You are not a child,” he said.
“Then treat me like I am not one.”
The hallway stayed silent.
Finally, Dominic nodded once.
Then he left.
The drive to Clara’s apartment took twenty minutes.
Dominic spent nineteen of them staring out the window.
Enzo noticed.
“You are thinking too much.”
“I am thinking enough.”
“That is usually when things go wrong.”
Dominic ignored him.
The apartment building was an old brick building in Queens with broken lights in the entrance and a landlord who had promised repairs for two years.
Dominic had expected the place to feel temporary.
He was wrong.
It felt lived in.
A child’s drawing was taped to a neighbor’s door.
Someone had left a bicycle near the stairs.
A radio played quietly behind one apartment wall.
Ordinary things.
The kind of things his world rarely contained.
Clara’s apartment door was open.
Two security men stood outside.
Dominic entered.
Nothing looked destroyed.
That was what bothered him.
A burglar looking for money would make a mess.
A person looking for information would be careful.
The living room was small.
A worn couch.
A kitchen table with unpaid bills stacked neatly beside a grocery receipt.
A bookshelf with more medical books than novels.
Pictures of Clara and her mother.
Nothing valuable.
Nothing worth stealing.
Enzo walked into the bedroom.
“Nothing obvious.”
Dominic opened a drawer.
Clothes.
A few pieces of jewelry.
May you like
A photograph.
He picked it up.
