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I grab Damian’s forearm and ask the doctor, “When do you expect him to wake up?”
“It's hard to say until he’s out of recovery. He might end up perfectly well, or there may be serious long-term effects.”
* * *
Damian is sitting on a chair next to me, talking with someone over the phone, but all I can do is stare at the wall in front of me. We've been here for twelve hours now. Luca came out of surgery an hour ago, but he's still in the recovery room.
“They finished processing Luca’s car,” Damian says. “The car was totaled, but there's some evidence that the scratches and dents on the side and rear may have happened before he crashed.”
I stare at him. The preliminary report said Luca lost control of the car and slid off the road into the ravine, rolling twice. It was pure luck that a fire truck was passing by and noticed his wreck and the fire. “What does that mean?”
“It means someone pushed him off the road. Based on the tire marks, probably two vehicles. Looks like someone may have rear-ended him, while another vehicle hit his side.”
My heart skips a beat. Someone tried to kill my husband.
PART TWO
“After”
Chapter 12
Present
I slowly approach the hospital bed where my husband is lying, numerous wires hooked up to his body and connected to a machine on the right. My hand grips the bed rail to prevent my legs giving out from under me, and I nearly collapse into the nearby chair. Most of his head is tightly wrapped in bandages, they must have shaved his hair. I press my hand to my mouth to keep the sobs from escaping.
I don’t know why that detail hits me so hard. I managed to keep it together while he was in surgery and during the hours he spent in the recovery room. I’ve put on a stoic mask and pretended I wasn’t falling apart while his life was hanging in the balance. Somehow, I managed to get through it without spilling a tear.
I reach for his hand and entwine our fingers, and dropping my forehead onto the mattress, I cry. Minutes pass. Maybe hours, I’m not sure. Different scenarios roll around my mind, each worse than the one before, and I weep harder until my whole body is shaking.
I almost miss the tiny twitch of fingers in my own. My head snaps up, and I find two dark brown eyes watching me.
“Oh, Luca...” I choke out, then lean over him and place a light, quick kiss on his lips.
He doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at me. When he finally speaks, the words that leave his mouth make me go ice-cold.
“Who are you?”
I stare at him.
Luca cocks his head to the side, regarding me with his intense, calculating gaze.
“I’m Isabella,” I whisper. “Your . . . wife.”
He blinks, then looks away at the window on the other side of the room and takes a deep breath.
“So, Isabella,” he says and turns to me. “Care to tell me who I am?
I take a slow deep breath, trying to suppress the panic rising in the pit of my stomach. It’s hard to know how long he was unconscious in the car, and then there were hours of surgery. It’s perfectly normal for him to be slightly confused.
I place my hand over his, noticing the way my fingers shake. “I’ll go find the doctor. He said to call him the moment you wake up. Okay?”
After he nods, I turn around and walk to the door, trying my best to appear calm. In reality, I’m choking down the urge to run in search of the doctor, yelling for him to come right away. When I find Dr. Jacobs, he rushes to Luca’s room, asking me to stay outside. I sit in the chair and wait. And wait. I’m not sure how long the doctor has been inside when Damian comes and joins me.
When the doctor finally exits the room, we both jump from our chairs and stare at him.
“Physically, Mr. Rossi is good,” Dr. Jacobs says. “Taking into account the seriousness of his condition when he arrived, I would say he’s doing exceptionally well. I did a basic exam, and all his motor functions seem to be working quite well. We’ll do a more thorough examination, of course, and another CT scan to make sure the swelling continues to recede, but other than some bruises and burns, he seems fine. Except for his memory loss.”
I stiffen next to Damian. “Is that... permanent?”
