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CHAPTER1
ADRIANO
“Mr. Canali? The doctor is ready for you now.”
Adriano Canali sighed and rose slowly to his feet. He hated doctors and hated the fact that he had spent the last few weeks getting poked and prodded by them. He didn’t have time for this. He had a life to get back to. He had his career to think about.
Unfortunately, his body hadn’t been cooperating with that idea lately.
He was short of breath as he made his way back to the exam room. It was so frustrating. This time last year, he had been running marathons. Now he couldn’t even walk across a doctor’s office without becoming winded.
The nurse looked at him sympathetically, and Adriano hated that too. He knew what she must be thinking—that he was just like every other sickly person who came and went here on a daily basis. She didn’t understand how hard-working he was, how everything he had ever done in his life had been designed to contribute toward his success. And up until now, success had been all he had ever known.
Now his body was failing him, and he couldn’t stand it.
But there was no problem that couldn’t be solved. Life had taught Adriano that. Whatever was wrong with him, he just needed to figure it out. Once he did, the doctor would be able to give him a drug that would solve it, and things would go back to normal. It would be as easy as that.
The nurse showed him into the examination room. At least today they were just following up on some tests Adriano had had done—there would be no dressing in one of those humiliating paper gowns, no unwelcome hands on his body, no more invasive tests. He didn’t even feel the need to sit on the exam table—he took a seat in one of the chairs by the wall to wait. The nurse cast him a look, as if she didn’t approve of that, but she didn’t say anything.
“Dr. Bianchi will be with you in just a moment,” she said, and let herself out of the room.
They could at least have consultations like this in conference rooms instead of exam rooms. Adriano closed his eyes, feeling a roll of nausea. That was a regular thing now, along with the exhaustion, the frequent fevers, and the body aches.
The sound of a knock and the door opening prompted him to open his eyes. Dr. Bianchi, a neat-looking man in his fifties, came into the room. Even though he hated doctors, Adriano felt a sense of confidence in this one. No one who kept himself that put together could be all bad.
Dr. Bianchi sat down opposite Adriano. Adriano found it stressful that there was no table between the two of them.
“All right, Mr. Canali,” the doctor said. “We’ve got the results of your blood work.”
Adriano braced himself to hear the same thing he’d heard after every other test—inconclusive.
But the doctor’s words weren’t what he had anticipated. “Have you heard of Barks-Howard’s disease?”
Adriano frowned. “No.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s very rare. This is the first case I’ve come across in my career.”
“You’re saying I have this Banks-Hower’s thing?”
“Barks-Howard’s, yes. It’s not surprising that it’s taken this long to diagnose. I’m sure most physicians have never seen a case. To be honest with you, I wouldn’t have thought to ask for the test if we hadn’t already gotten the negative results on a few other conditions. It was very low on my suspect list.”
Adriano wasn’t really registering what the doctor was saying. He had thought it would be a relief to have a diagnosis at last, but now he was feeling anxious. “You haven’t told me what this disease is.”
“It’s an autoimmune disorder. That’s why you’ve been feeling unwell. Your immune system is reacting to the cells in your body instead of just fighting off infection.”
Adriano frowned. “Okay. So how do we get rid of it?”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Canali, there is no known cure for the condition.”
“What are you talking about? There has to be a cure. I can’t just go on living like this.”
“I have some literature here.” The doctor held it out to him. Adriano stared at the brochure but didn’t take it. “There are several treatment options to discuss. I understand resuming your normal life is very important to you—”
“You’re damn right it is!”
“—but we need to talk about long-term effects as well. If you try to push yourself too hard, the disease will progress more quickly.”
Adriano felt as if his head was spinning. “What do you mean, it willprogress?”
