Alessia’s Pov
The dim light of the kitchen cast long shadows across the walls as I sat at the table, staring at the two business cards in front of me. Marcello’s, crumpled and smudged from where I had thrown it in anger, and Luca Romano’s sleek black card, pristine and mocking.
Two offers. Two decisions.
I buried my head in my hands, tears threatening to spill. How did my life come to this? My mother’s hospital bills were a mountain I could never climb on my own, and time was slipping away faster than I could gather the means to save her.
The silence was broken by the shrill ring of my phone. My stomach dropped as I saw the hospital’s number on the screen. I answered quickly, my voice trembling.
“Hello?”
“Miss Moretti,” Dr. Alberti’s calm, clinical tone came through
