Chapter 11 - THE FIRST STEP
Gabriel’s first step happened twelve days later.
It was ugly.
Three therapists.
A gait belt.
Parallel bars.
Sweat running down his face.
One leg trembling so badly I thought it would fold.
But he stood.
Then moved his right foot forward.
Six inches.
Maybe less.
Gabriel Moretti had survived shootings, federal investigations, family betrayals, and a hidden spinal procedure.
Six inches made him cry harder than any of those things.
I stood at the end of the bars.
“Again.”
He glared.
“I took one.”
“Congratulations.”
“Elena.”
“Again.”
Physical therapy staff loved me.
Gabriel did not.
He moved the left foot.
Then nearly collapsed.
We caught him.
He sat.
Breathing hard.
“Happy?”
“Very.”
“You’re cruel.”
“I charge extra for encouragement.”
His mouth curved.
The infection was resolving.
Neurological function returning.
Not guaranteed to reach baseline.
But possible.
Ethan faced multiple charges tied to fraud, unlawful medical interference, kidnapping, and financial crimes.
Vincent cooperated.
His situation was complicated.
He admitted knowingly helping arrange the unauthorized procedure and incapacity plan.
He claimed Ethan convinced him Gabriel intended to eliminate the entire family from legitimate holdings.
That did not excuse him.
Gabriel refused to protect him from consequences.
That mattered.
“What will happen to Vincent?”
I asked.
“Court.”
“No family solution?”
“No.”
“Your father would be horrified.”
“Good.”
Sofia filed for divorce.
Then she did something Gabriel did not expect.
She resigned from every Moretti board.
“I want my own life,” she told him.
He almost argued.
I watched him stop himself.
“Okay.”
Sofia stared.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
He looked physically pained.
“But I’m learning.”
She hugged him.
Alessandra came to Chicago quietly.
The first time I saw Gabriel with his mother, I understood some of him.
He became younger.
Not softer exactly.
Unarmored.
She touched his hair.
“You look terrible.”
“Nice to see you too.”
Then she looked at me.
“So you are Elena.”
I sighed.
“Apparently everyone knew my name before I did.”
Alessandra smiled.
“He talked about you before the surgery.”
I stared at Gabriel.
He looked away.
“What did he say?”
“Mother.”
She ignored him.
“He said if the nurse from St. Vincent’s ever agreed to take the case, perhaps someone in his house would finally tell him the truth.”
I felt something tighten.
“You knew I was coming?”
Gabriel muttered:
“I requested you.”
“You could have said that.”
“I was busy dying.”
“Convenient.”
Alessandra laughed.
Then her smile faded.
“He needs people who aren’t afraid of him.”
I looked at Gabriel.
“He needs to stop making fear so useful.”
His mother nodded.
“Exactly.”
Gabriel looked betrayed by both of us.
Good.
Later that night, after everyone left, he asked:
“What happens when I’m discharged?”
“You go home.”
“And you?”
“My assignment ends.”
His face changed.
There it was.
The thing we had avoided.
“You’re not coming back to the penthouse.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You no longer need twenty-four-hour nursing.”
“I could develop something.”
I laughed.
“Please don’t.”
He became serious.
“I want you there.”
I felt the pull.
Powerful.
Dangerous.
Not because he was Gabriel Moretti.
Because I wanted to say yes.
So I asked:
“As what?”
Silence.
He had not thought that far.
Good.
“I’m not becoming your live-in nurse because we’ve developed a trauma bond with excellent real estate.”
His mouth opened.
Closed.
Then:
“Dinner?”
I stared.
“What?”
“When I can walk.”
“You’re asking me on a date?”
“Yes.”
“While wearing hospital socks?”
“Yes.”
I smiled despite myself.
“Walk first.”
He looked toward the parallel bars.
May you like
Then back at me.
“You just created a very powerful incentive.”
