NANNY FOR THE MAFIA BOSS

CHAPTER 12: CODE BLACK

A figure in scrubs stepping inside.

Ria grabbed my leg. “Mama?”

Ella started crying.

The figure stopped at Vince’s bed.

I couldn’t see their faces.

But I saw their hands.

Reaching for the IV line.

“HEY!” Marco yelled.

The figure turned.

And ran.

Gunshots.

Shouting.

Alarms.

I didn’t move.

I was staring at Vince.

At the IV bag.

At the clear liquid dripping into his arm.

Was it saline?

Or was it something else?

Vince’s eyes opened. He looked at me.

Confused.

Then I was scared.

He opened his mouth to say something.

And then the machines started screaming.

The alarms were screaming.

Red lights flashing. Nurses running.

“CODE BLACK! CODE BLACK! ICU FLOOR! POSSIBLE INTRUDER!”

Ria was clinging to my leg, sobbing. Ella was screaming in the carrier, a sound so high it hurt my teeth.

Marco was already through the door with his gun up. Two officers right behind him.

“Stay here!” Marco yelled over his shoulder. “Don’t move!”

But I was already moving.

To Vince.

The room was chaotic. Nurses pulling the curtain. The IV pump was beeping, angry red.

Vince’s eyes were open, wide, panicked. His chest was heaving.

“Ava,” he gasped. “Get… away…”

“What did they do to you?” I grabbed his hand. It was clammy. “Someone was just here!”

The nurse ripped the IV line out of his arm. “Call anesthesia! Call a rapid response!”

Another nurse was already checking the bag. She held it up to the light.

“This isn’t saline,” she said, voice shaking. “This is potassium. A lethal dose.”

The world tilted.

“Someone tried to kill him,” I whispered.

“BP’s crashing,” someone said. “60 over 40.”

“Push epi! Get the crash cart!”

They were pushing me out of the way.

“Ma’am, you need to step back!”

“No!” I yelled. “Vince! Vince, look at me!”

His eyes found mine. He tried to smile.

“Told you… 24 hours…”

“Don’t you dare,” I said, crying. “Don’t you dare leave me now. Not after everything.”

Hands pulled me back. Marco.

“Ava. Let them work.”

“He’s dying,” I said. “He’s dying and it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” Marco said, but his voice was tight. “Come. We need to move you and the girls. Now.”

Down the hall, footsteps. Running.

“Got him!” an officer yelled. “Got the guy in scrubs!”

My heart jumped. “Who is it?”

“Don’t know yet,” Marco said. “But he’s cuffed.”

They moved us fast. Out of ICU. Down a back stairwell. Two more officers in front, two behind.

Ria was asking, “Is Daddy okay? Is Daddy okay?” and I didn’t have an answer.

We ended up in a small conference room on the 3rd floor. No windows. One door.

Two officers outside.

Ella finally stopped crying and passed out from exhaustion. Ria was asleep on the floor with her head in my lap.

My phone buzzed.

UNKNOWN

Missed us?

I didn’t open it. I threw it on the table.

30 minutes passed. An hour.

No word from upstairs.

Then the door opened.

Rodriguez. She looked exhausted.

“We got him,” she said. “The guy in scrubs. His name is Wilson Russon. He’s Francisco’s cousin.”

“Is he talking?” Marco asked.

“No,” she said. “Lawyered up immediately. But we found this in his bag.”

She held up a photo in an evidence bag.

It was us. From the hospital cafeteria an hour ago.

Ria eating. Me holding Ella. Vince asleep in the background through the glass.

Written across it in black marker: 24 hours is up.

“He’s been watching for days,” Rodriguez said. “He had hospital access. That’s how he got in.”

“What about Vince?” I asked. My voice was barely there.

She hesitated.

“They stabilized him,” she said. “For now. They reversed the potassium. But he coded twice. He’s in a coma. Induced.”

The floor dropped out from under me.

“Coma,” I repeated.

“To protect his brain,” she said quickly. “It’s the best chance he has. The doctor says the next 48 hours will tell us if he wakes up.”

48 hours again.

I stood up. “I need to see him.”

“Ma’am, he’s in the ICU. Only family”

“I’m his wife,” I said. “Legally. I have the papers.”

She nodded. “I’ll take you. But we need to talk first.”

We sat down.

“The drugs is moving fast,” Rodriguez said. “With Russo in custody and Francisco already in Rikers, they think we can flip one of them. But it means Vince has to testify from the hospital. Video deposition.”

“And if he can’t wake up?”

“Then we don’t have a case,” she said. “And the family keeps coming.”

Marco cursed under his breath.

“What about the email?” I asked. “The ‘F’? Who is it?”

“We’re tracing it,” Rodriguez said. “Could be Leo. Vince’s cousin. He’s been quiet for years. Too quiet.”

The door opened again.

A doctor this time. Young. Tired.

“Ms. Ava?”

“Yes.”

“You can see him,” he said. “5 minutes. He’s stable, but he’s not waking up. Don’t be alarmed by the machines.”

I followed him. Marco stayed with Ria and Ella.

The ICU was quieter now. Curtains drawn.

Vince was in a bed, surrounded by machines. Breathing tube down his throat. Heart monitor beeping steady.

He looked peaceful. Like he was just sleeping.

Except for the bandage on his side. And the bruises. And the fact that he wasn’t opening his eyes when I said his name.

“Vince,” I whispered, taking his hand. “It’s me. It’s Ava.”

No response.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’m so, so sorry I brought this to you. To us.”

A tear hit his hand.

“I signed the papers,” I told him. “I’m going to testify for you. We’re going to burn them down. All of them. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Still nothing.

The heart monitor kept beeping.

“I love you,” I said. “Ria loves you. Ella loves you. Come back to us. Please. Come back for Sunday. Park. Ice cream.”

A nurse poked her head in. “Time’s up, ma’am.”

I kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Back in the conference room, Rodriguez was waiting with a folder.

“Safe house,” she said. “We will move you tonight. Different hospital for Vince too. We can’t risk another attempt here.”

“When?”

“Midnight,” she said. “Armored vehicle. 6 officers.”

Midnight. 3 hours away.

I nodded. “Okay.”

The next 3 hours were the longest of my life.

Packing what little we had.

Checking on Vince every 20 minutes.

Watching Ria draw pictures for “when Daddy wakes up.”

At 11:45 PM, Marco knocked.

“Time.”

We moved like ghosts. Down the service elevator. Through a loading dock.

Into an armored SUV.

Lights off. No sirens.

The drive was 20 minutes. It felt like 20 years.

We pulled into a gated house in Westchester. Brick. Big yard.

“New name,” Rodriguez said as we got out. “New everything. For now.”

Inside, it was clean. Safe. Boring.

Exactly what we needed.

I put Ria to bed in one room. Ella in a bassinet in the other.

Then I sat at the kitchen table.

Alone.

My phone buzzed.

Not UNKNOWN.

A new number.

I almost didn’t answer.

“Ava?”

Vince’s voice.

Rough. Tired. But his voice.

I shot to my feet. “Vince? Vince, is that you? Oh my god—”

“I’m awake,” he said. “They just extubated me. 20 minutes ago.”

“You’re awake,” I cried. “You’re awake, you’re awake—”

“I heard everything,” he said. “The nurse told me. You signed the papers.”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I did. For us.”

“Good,” he said. “Then it’s time to end this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Francisco,” he said. “And it’s not Leo.”

“Who is it?”

A pause.

“It’s my brother, Ava,” he said. “Michael. The one everyone thought died 8 years ago.”

The room went cold.

“Michael is alive?”

“He’s been running the family from the shadows,” Vince said. “Pier 9. The hospital. The emails. All of them. And he’s not going to stop until I’m dead.”

I sank into a chair.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Vince said. “But he knows where you are. The safe house.”

“How?”

“Because he’s the one who set it up,” Vince said.

The front door clicked.

Not a knock.

A click.

Like a key.

Ria sat up in bed. “Mama?”

Ella started crying.

On the phone, Vince said, “Ava? Ava, what’s that sound?”

I stood up slowly.

I walked to the front door.

Peeked through the peephole.

A man stood there.

Late 30s. Vince’s eyes. Vince’s jaw.

But colder.

Holding a key.

Smiling.

He looked straight at the peephole.

And mouthed my name.

“Ava.”