Chapter 221

Chapter 221
Hannah

I'd never seen my mother look so happy to leave a building. She practically glowed as we walked through the automatic doors of Cedars-Sinai, her arm linked with mine for support.
"Fresh air," she said, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. "You have no idea how much I've missed just... breathing outside."
I squeezed her arm gently. "Let's not make this a habit, okay? No more hospital stays for at least the next fifty years."
"I'll do my best."
Dr. Ashford had spent thirty minutes going over discharge instructions with us. Take it easy for six weeks. No heavy lifting. Follow the medication schedule precisely. Return for a follow-up in two weeks. Call immediately if she experienced any concerning symptoms. The list went on, and I'd taken detailed notes on my phone, knowing Mom would likely "forget" half the restrictions.
"Remember what Dr. Ashford said," I reminded her as we approached the waiting cab. "You're supposed to rest."
"I've been resting for two weeks in that hospital bed," she countered. "My idea of rest now includes sitting on our own couch watching terrible reality TV."
"That I can allow," I said, helping her into the cab.
The driver loaded her suitcase into the trunk as I settled in beside her. Mom gazed out the window as we pulled away, like someone returning from a long journey abroad rather than a hospital stay across town.
"It looks different somehow," she murmured.
"What does?"
"Everything." She gestured vaguely at the passing city. "Like I'm seeing it with new eyes."
I understood what she meant. Near-death experiences had a way of making the ordinary seem extraordinary. The green of the trees, the blue of the sky, even the mundane sight of people walking their dogs; it all carried a different weight when you'd almost lost the chance to see it again.
Once we reached our apartment building, I assisted Mom into the elevator.
Inside, Mom sank onto the couch with a contented sigh. "Home sweet home."
I busied myself setting up her medication station on the kitchen counter, organizing pills into the compartments of the organizer while she flipped through TV channels.
"I made up your bed with fresh sheets," I called over my shoulder. "And Emma stocked the fridge yesterday."
"You girls think of everything."
I filled a glass with water and brought it to her with the first round of pills. "Here you go. The blue one is twice a day, the white one is three times, and the big horse pill is only once in the morning."
She swallowed them without complaint, then patted the couch beside her. "Sit with me a minute."
I obliged, and she immediately took my hand.
"Thank you, Hannah," she said, her eyes suddenly serious. "For everything. I don't know what I would have done without you these past weeks."
"You'd have managed," I said, uncomfortable with her gratitude. If she knew where the money for her treatment had come from...
"No," she shook her head firmly. "I wouldn't have. You've been my rock." Her eyes welled with tears. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around."
"Hey," I squeezed her hand. "That's what family does. We take care of each other."
She nodded, wiping away a stray tear. "Your father would be so proud of the woman you've become."
The mention of my dad made my chest tighten. I wondered what he would think of me now, with my complicated life and morally questionable choices.
"Let's get you settled," I said, standing up to escape the conversation. "What do you need? Tea? Another blanket?"
"Just the remote and some peace and quiet," she said with a small smile. "Go do whatever you need to do. I'm not an invalid."
"You kind of are, actually," I teased, handing her the remote. "That's literally why we're here."
She shooed me away with a laugh, and I retreated to my room to organize the stack of assignments I'd been neglecting.
I spread my assignments across my desk and tried to concentrate, but my mind kept wandering. The quiet domesticity of the apartment felt surreal after the intensity of the past few weeks, the hospital, Leonardo, Italy. It was like I was living two completely different lives.
Hours passed as I worked, periodically checking on Mom, who had dozed off watching a cooking show. I made us a simple dinner of soup and sandwiches, which we ate together on the couch, talking about nothing important.
It felt normal. Safe. The complete opposite of how I felt with Leonardo.
As the evening settled in, my phone buzzed with a message. My heart jumped when I saw Leonardo's name on the screen.
Leonardo: Meet me at the penthouse in an hour. Important.
No please, no question mark. Just a command, as usual. I stared at the message, a mix of anticipation and dread swirling in my stomach.
Me: I'm with my mom. She just got home from the hospital today.
His response came almost immediately.
Leonardo: One hour. It's urgent.
I sighed. Even through text, he managed to sound authoritative.
Me: Okay. I'll be there.
I glanced at Mom, who was absorbed in her show again. "I need to run out for a bit. Will you be okay alone?"
She looked up, surprised. "At this hour? Where are you going?"
"Just to meet a friend," I said vaguely. "Won't be long."
"A friend?" Her eyebrows rose slightly. "The same non-existent person who made you blush at the hospital?"
I felt my cheeks warm again. "It's just school stuff. Group project."
"Mmm-hmm," she hummed skeptically. "Well, don't stay out too late."
"I won't be long. Promise."
I changed quickly, swapping my comfortable loungewear for jeans and a nice top. As I applied a touch of makeup, I wondered what Leonardo wanted. Our next meeting wasn't scheduled until the weekend. "Important" could mean anything from business matters to his particular brand of urgent desire.
I left my apartment and hailed a cab, giving the driver the address of the penthouse. The ride gave me time to speculate. Maybe he wanted to discuss our arrangement? Or perhaps he had news about the people targeting him?
The cab pulled up to the gleaming high-rise, and I paid the driver before making my way inside. The doorman nodded in recognition as I entered the lobby.
The elevator ride to the penthouse floor seemed longer than usual. When the doors opened, I was surprised to find Leonardo waiting in the hallway rather than inside the apartment.
He looked immaculate as always in a tailored suit, but something about his expression was different. Tighter, more controlled than usual, if that was even possible.
"You're here," he said, his voice neutral. "Come in."
I followed him into the penthouse, noticing how he maintained more distance between us than normal. No touch on my lower back, no brushing of fingers against my arm. Something was definitely off.