Chapter 6 - Twenty-Seven MinutesLeo survived surgery.
The bullet passed through his abdomen without striking the major artery the doctors feared it had hit.
Nora spent seven hours in the hospital waiting room.
Carlo spent all seven beside her.
At 4:12 a.m., the surgeon appeared.
“He’s stable.”
Nora’s knees nearly gave out.
Carlo caught her.
Neither spoke.
For once, silence was enough.
Leo woke the following afternoon.
Nora was asleep in the chair beside him.
When she opened her eyes, he was watching her.
“You look terrible,” he whispered.
She stood.
“You got shot.”
“I noticed.”
“You almost died.”
“So people keep implying.”
Nora hit his shoulder.
Not hard.
Leo winced.
“That seems medically irresponsible.”
She started crying.
Immediately.
Furiously.
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know.”
She leaned over him.
“You do not get to make jokes after making me watch you bleed on a carpet.”
“I’ll schedule them later.”
“Leo.”
He stopped.
Nora took his hand.
“I thought you were dead.”
His expression softened.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“What?”
“No apologies that make this easier.”
He looked at her.
“What do you want?”
“The truth.”
“I was scared.”
It was the answer she needed.
Not bravery.
Not control.
Fear.
“I was scared too.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
She sat.
“For months, I kept telling myself you were a customer.”
“Nora—”
“A complicated customer. A dangerous customer. A customer who occasionally has people shot.”
“I rarely—”
“Not helping.”
He closed his mouth.
“I told myself that because loving you sounded stupid.”
Leo became completely still.
Nora continued before courage abandoned her.
“It sounded like loving a hurricane. Or a building that was already on fire.”
“That’s romantic.”
“Shut up.”
He did.
“I love you.”
The words existed now.
No taking them back.
Leo looked away.
Nora’s heart sank.
Then she saw tears.
“You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Crying like nobody’s allowed to notice.”
“I’m not crying.”
“You have terrible timing for lying.”
He squeezed her hand.
“I love you too.”
“Arthur already told me.”
Leo stared.
“What?”
Nora smiled.
“Months ago.”
“That traitor.”
“He said you loved me like the only place you could breathe.”
Leo looked offended.
“That’s extremely dramatic.”
“He was a Rossi.”
“Fair.”
Then his expression became serious.
“I don’t know what happens now.”
“Neither do I.”
“I may go to prison.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to cooperate.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because you already decided.”
Leo nodded.
“There’s enough evidence in Arthur’s records to dismantle half the organization.”
“And implicate you.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
Nora breathed slowly.
“Then we deal with it.”
“You shouldn’t wait for me.”
“Don’t start.”
“Nora.”
“No.”
“I could disappear for years.”
“You disappeared twenty-seven days and I nearly lost my mind.”
“This could be longer.”
“Then I’ll need a better hobby.”
Leo smiled.
The next morning, federal agents arrived.
Not two.
Twelve.
Lawyers followed.
Then prosecutors.
Leo spent hours talking.
Names.
Accounts.
Warehouses.
Bribes.
Every answer dismantled another piece of the world Arthur had built.
Vincenzo survived the shooting.
He was arrested from his hospital bed.
Carlo entered protective custody.
Daniel surrendered.
By the end of the week, newspapers carried the Rossi name across every front page.
The Daily Grind became famous for the worst possible reason.
Reporters camped outside.
Customers disappeared.
Nora taped cardboard over the windows.
Then opened anyway.
At 7:15 Tuesday morning, she made black coffee.
The stool was empty.
She poured the coffee down the sink at 7:30.
Not because she had stopped waiting.
Because she had finally learned the difference between waiting and living.
Three weeks later, Leo was released pending trial under strict conditions.
He came directly to the café.
No suit.
No guards.
No empire.
He stood outside for a long time.
Nora watched him through the window.
Finally, she opened the door.
“You planning to come inside?”
“I wasn’t sure I was allowed.”
“You’ve been banned seven times.”
“Eight.”
“Then tradition suggests you’ll ignore it.”
Leo entered.
He sat on the stool.
It wobbled.
He smiled.
Nora made coffee.
He placed three dollars on the counter.
She took them.
“What happens now?” he asked.
“You drink.”
“After that?”
“You help me close.”
“After that?”
“Tomorrow happens.”
Leo looked at her.
“That simple?”
“No.”
She leaned across the counter.
“That’s why we take it one day at a time.”
He drank.
For fifteen minutes, neither spoke.
But the silence had changed.
Before, it had been escape.
Now it was preparation.
The world outside still existed.
Courtrooms.
Consequences.
Fear.
May you like
But for fifteen minutes they sat together without pretending those things did not exist.
And somehow that was better.
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