"Also, the injury to your right hand is severe. You need surgery immediately, or you may lose the ability to perform fine motor tasks permanently."
Those words hit me like ice water poured directly into my veins.
My right hand.
Unable to perform fine motor tasks.
I had trained for years in the Family's underground medical network. I had dreamed of becoming a surgeon—of saving lives, of proving my worth beyond the alliance marriage that had defined my existence.
"Nico... where's Nico..."
"Get... my phone..."
I tried to sit up, fighting through the waves of nausea and pain.
I had to call him.
The call connected.
A robotic female voice answered.
The number you have dialed is powered off.
A broken sound escaped my throat—something between a sob and a laugh.
I hurled my phone across the room.
It hit the wall with a sharp crack, the screen shattering like my last hope.
My right hand screamed with agony—sharp, relentless, like a thousand needles piercing flesh and bone.
"Signorina Mancini, we located Don Nico. He's with Signorina Gallo in the private counseling suite. Apparently she was shaken by the incident." The nurse hesitated. "The Young Don left strict instructions that no one is to disturb them."