No savings.
No insurance worth anything.
The urgent care closed at ten.
The hospital was twenty minutes away on a good night and forty in Friday traffic.
“I’ll call a cab,” Rosie said.
“With what money?” I whispered, hating that Dante’s table was close enough to hear.
Rosie squeezed my arm.
“We’ll figure it out.”
Milo coughed again, harder this time, and clung to my neck.
“Mommy, my chest hurts.”
That broke me.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
A mother’s heart does not shatter loudly when a child is sick.
It simply stops caring about pride.
I turned toward the door with Milo in my arms.
Dante stood.
“Take my car.”
I did not even look at him.
“No.”
“Claire—”
“You don’t know my name.”
“Rosie said it.”
“I said no.”
He stepped out from the booth.
His men moved with him.
Milo buried his face in my shoulder.
That made Dante stop.
He looked at Milo with an expression I could not understand.
“I have a driver outside,” he said. “He can get you to Mass General faster than a cab.”
“No favors from you.”
“It’s not a favor.”
“Everything from men like you is a favor.”
His jaw tightened.
Then he did something I did not expect.
He reached into his coat, removed his phone, placed it on the counter, and slid it toward Rosie.
“Call 911. Tell them a child has breathing trouble. My driver will wait. If the ambulance comes first, take it. If my car gets there first, use it. No debt. No name. No favor.”
Rosie looked at me.
Milo wheezed.
That sound made my decision for me.
I nodded once.
Dante turned to his driver outside and gave one sharp signal.
Within thirty seconds, a black SUV pulled to the curb.
I carried Milo through the diner.
As I passed Dante, he moved out of my way.
No touch.
No command.
The Mafia Boss Asked If She Had a Boyfriend—Her Two-Word Answer Made Him Go Silent
