The Sicilian's Obsession

Sophia's POV The beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound clearly audible in the operating room. Under the bright light of the surgical lamp, I stood stiff. Cold sweat beaded on my temples despite the chill of the operating room. On the operating table, a boy of about nine years old lay dead, his chest covered in blood, mangled by a brutal gunshot wound. A bullet lodged just centimeters from his heart. "Blood pressure's dropping again!" the nurse beside me exclaimed, her voice rising as the monitor's alarms began to beep more. “Add plasma,” I ordered, trying to keep my voice as even as possible. "Si, Dottoressa." I didn't lift my head an inch. My hands continue to work without hesitation. I can't let my emotions take control. Three hours have passed since the ambulance brought the unidentified boy to Palermo Centrale Hospital. No family, no name; just a child on the verge of death. For me, his continued breathing was reason enough to keep fighting. "Retractor." The nurse beside me deftly handed me the instruments I requested. I took a deep breath, focusing on the surgical area. "I saw the bullet." Everyone in the operating room fell silent. The bullet was embedded too close to the aorta. One wrong move from me, just a millimeter off, and this child would be dead in my arms right now. I carefully extended the anatomical forceps. Time seemed to slow down, making every second feel like torture. As soon as the metal of the bullet clinked against the computer, the initially irregular beeping of the heart monitor suddenly became constant and steady. A collective sigh of relief filled the room. I even glanced at a nurse in the corner who was on the verge of tears. As the tension dissipated, I just realized that my shoulder feels incredibly sore. "Cover it in layers. I'll go out first," I instructed the resident doctor who was my assistant. I stepped back and removed my blood-stained latex gloves. The operation was complete. The child had survived. Forty minutes later, I walked out of the operating room block with my surgical mask lowered to my neck. My body was incredibly tired, but the fatigue always lessened every time a child successfully passed through my operating table. I had just stepped into the staff break room when a nurse stopped me. Her face was pale. "Dottoressa Bianchi." I stopped. Her face looked tense. "What's wrong, infermiera?" "The people who dropped off the child earlier... they're back." I frowned. "His family?" The nurse shook her head quickly, her eyes flashing with fear. "I don't think so." Her tone immediately alerted me. "What do you mean?" She hesitated for a moment before whispering, "They're carrying weapons." I was immediately wary. Palermo is not a friendly city, I know that all too well. In Sicily, the mafia's influence is felt throughout the city. They frequently visit hospitals, either to deliver a dying victim, or to create a new victim. All this time, I've always protected myself from getting dragged into their conflict. I'm just a surgeon, not a police officer, let alone part of a syndicate. But tonight, the problem came right to me. As soon as I stepped into the VIP waiting room, I immediately understood the nurse's fear. Five men dressed in black stood there motionless. The way they scanned every corner of the room reminded me of military personnel. None of them seemed nervous about being in a hospital filled with police and security personnel. "Our Don wishes to speak with you," the man said, stepping forward to close the distance. Sophia held her ground, refusing to show her fear. "Which Don?" The man didn't answer. He simply turned and opened the double wooden doors behind him. Inside the room, a man sat alone. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and dressed in a perfect black suit. The thin scar on his neck caught my attention far more than the expensive suit he was wearing. He sat far too casually for someone surrounded by armed men. But what was most intimidating were his green eyes, cold and sharp as a predator stalking its prey. I recognized that face. All of Sicily knew it. Don Vittorio Greco. The most dangerous man on the island, the head of the Greco family, whom even the local law enforcement refused to touch. I'd never felt so small in my entire life before someone. Vito stood slowly from his seat. "Dottoressa Sophia Bianchi." His voice was soft, but the entire room fell silent. I forced myself to remain calm. "You wanted to talk to me?" "You saved my nephew's life." I blinked. The boy with the gunshot wound? I had no idea the poor boy was a member of the Greco family. "He's my patient." "That's not an answer I usually hear from people." I lifted my chin, refusing to submit to his authority. "Because I'm a dottoressa." For a moment, something resembling a faint smile appeared at the corners of his lips, so faint I almost thought it was an illusion. "So the rumors were true." "What rumors?" "That you're not afraid of anyone." I chose to remain silent. Deep down, I was scared to death. However, I swore to myself that I would never show any gap or weakness in front of this man. Vito took a thick envelope from the table and handed it to me. "A gift." I didn't even glance at the envelope. "I don't accept extra money from patients." "Most people would just snatch it up." "I'm not most people." We stared at each other for a few seconds. There was a small change in his eyes that I couldn't interpret. The man finally gave a small nod, then withdrew the envelope. "Then I won't insist." Feeling that my business was finished, I immediately turned to leave. However, just before my fingers touched the doorknob, the phone in the pocket of my white robe vibrated violently. The name flashing on the screen instantly made my blood run cold: Home. I immediately swiped the green button with trembling hands. "Hello?" "Signorina Sophia!" My father's housekeeper's panicked voice broke out on the other end. "Your padre collapsed!” I gripped my phone tighter. "What?!" "He's having a heart attack again!" My entire body tensed. "Please call an ambulance now!" "Yes, but..." The woman's voice was choked with hysterical sobs. "The dottor here said his condition is very critical." My body immediately felt cold. The phone in my hand nearly slipped from my grasp. Without a second thought about etiquette, I yanked open the door and ran out. However, Vito's voice from behind me stopped me in my tracks. It was calm, cold, and sounded so certain. "Antonio Bianchi has finally fallen." I froze. Slowly, I turned back into the room. My eyes met Vito's sharp gaze. "What do you mean?" Vito put both hands in his trouser pockets, standing with obvious arrogance. "The best hospital in Milan." I frowned, my breath coming in short bursts of panic and confusion. "What?" "If he wants to live longer, he needs to be cared for there." How could this man know my father's condition so quickly? Vito stared at me for a few seconds, before finally whispering softly, "You will need my help one day, Dottoressa Bianchi." I didn't answer. I just turned around and ran as fast as I could down the hospital corridor, ignoring everything. When I left the VIP room, the uncomfortable feeling I felt didn't go away. At the time, I didn't realize how much influence Vittorio Greco would have on my life. But for that night, I wished I never saw him again.