“One week. I’ll compensate the hospital for any inconvenience.”
I wanted to argue but knew it would be pointless.
“Fine. One week.”
“Excellent.”
He moved to his desk, opened a drawer, and retrieved a small box.
“This is for you.”
I took it hesitantly. Inside was a sleek smartphone, much newer than my ancient model.
“For secure communications,” he explained. “All of our numbers are programmed in. The security team can track it in case of emergency.”
The implications of needing such a device sent a chill down my spine, but I nodded, slipping it into my pocket.
“There is something else you should know.”
Dante’s voice became more serious.
“About Marco’s mother. Sophia.”
I tensed, unsure where this was going.
“You asked if she died of cancer. She did.”
He set his glass down, his expression hardening.
“What I didn’t tell you is that her family blames me for her death.”
“Why would they blame you for cancer?”
“They believe the stress of being married to me exacerbated her condition. That I prevented her from seeking treatment abroad.”
His jaw tightened.
