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Each day, I walked through the grand halls of the Cortini estate, tending to the needs of a man who embodied the very world I sought to protect our child from.
It was a constant reminder of the life I had chosen to leave behind, the risks and dangers that loomed at every turn.
As I attended to Dante's father, a mix of compassion and resentment washed over me.
Compassion, because I saw a frail and aging man, once powerful and commanding, now vulnerable and dependent on the care I provided.
Resentment because he represented the very existence that threatened to overshadow our son's future.
The conflict within me was overwhelming.
I questioned my decision daily, wondering if there was a way to bridge the gap between love and safety.
I loved Dante with every fiber of my being, but I couldn't bear the thought of our son growing up in the clutches of the mafia, forever haunted by the shadows that had engulfed his family for generations.
Each time I looked into the eyes of Dante's father, I saw glimpses of his life, the choices he had made, and the consequences that had rippled through generations.
It served as a clear reminder that our actions had far-reaching implications, and I couldn't ignore the responsibility to safeguard our child from a similar fate.
Yet, amidst the turmoil, a flicker of hope remained.
Hope that Dante will find a way to fulfill his promises to create a life where our son wouldn’t no be dragged into the mafia.
As the days passed, I realized that the path I had chosen was not an easy one.
It demanded sacrifice and unwavering determination.
And so, as I carried out my duties within the Cortini estate, I remained lost in my feelings, grappling with my choices.
I was jolted out of my thoughts when my phone beeped. I frowned.
My phone was connected to a patient monitoring system which was set to beep if Mr. Salvatore’s health fluctuated in any way.
I walked back into Dante's father's bedroom, my footsteps heavy with a sense of responsibility.
The beep from a device filled me with a mix of concern and anticipation, but nothing could have prepared me for the harrowing sight that awaited me.
As I stepped through the door, I froze, and my breath hitched.
Dante's father lay in bed with his body convulsing with each violent cough.
Blood sprayed from his lips, dribbling down the corner of his mouth.
Panic surged through my veins as I rushed to his side.
My mind raced, trying to process the sight before me.
How had his condition deteriorated so rapidly?
I had just checked on him moments ago, and he appeared to be stable.
But now, as I watched him struggle for breath, it was as if the world had shifted, plunging us into a nightmare.
"Mr. Salvatore." I cried out, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and urgency.
His eyes, once vibrant and alive, were now filled with a mixture of terror and helplessness.
Each rasping breath he took sounded like a desperate plea for respite, a cry for someone to alleviate his suffering.
