THE MAFIA TYRANT SECRET

Chapter Two: The Things People Hide

Vivienne woke to the sound of a trolley rattling past her hospital room.

For several seconds, she lay perfectly still, staring at the pale ceiling and trying to remember where she was. Then the pain in her ribs reminded her.

The accident.

She turned her head toward the window. Morning sunlight slipped through the curtains, illuminating the vase of flowers someone had placed on the table beside her bed.

There was no card.

No name.

Just flowers.

Vivienne frowned.

“Who sent those?”

A nurse entering the room glanced at the vase. “They were delivered yesterday evening.”

“By whom?”

“I wasn't here when they arrived, dear.”

Vivienne considered asking the receptionist, but a dull ache throbbed through her forehead. She decided the flowers could wait.

Her phone was beside the bed. She picked it up and checked her messages.

Three messages from Adrian.

How are you feeling?

The wedding arrangements are getting complicated.

Call me when you're awake.

Vivienne stared at the screen.

She had spent the previous night waking every few hours, frightened by unfamiliar sounds and the memory of metal crushing around her. Adrian knew that. He knew she hated hospitals, needles, and being alone when she was afraid.

Yet somehow, the wedding arrangements had already become part of the conversation.

She typed a short reply.

I'm still in pain. The doctor says I need more rest.

His response came several minutes later.

Okay. Take care of yourself.

Vivienne set the phone down.

“Romantic,” she muttered. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

She immediately regretted speaking because the movement made her ribs hurt.

“Wonderful. Now I'm injured and sarcastic.”

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it.

It was better than crying.

By midday, the doctor confirmed that Vivienne's condition was stable. She had bruising, several cuts, and a mild concussion. She would need a few more days of observation before she could safely go home.

She was relieved.

Then she remembered that she had not yet told her aunt what happened.

Her aunt answered on the second ring.

“Vivienne! Where have you been? I've called you so many times!”

“I had an accident, Auntie.”

A sharp silence followed.

“What accident?”

“A car accident. I'm in the hospital, but the doctors say I'm stable.”

“Oh, my God! Which hospital? I'm coming now.”

For the first time since waking up, Vivienne felt her eyes sting.

“Thank you.”

“Don't thank me. Just rest. And don't you dare start worrying about that wedding before you recover. Do you hear me?”

Vivienne smiled faintly. “Yes, ma'am.”

When the call ended, she leaned back against the pillows.

Her aunt's concern had warmed something inside her. It reminded her that she still had people who cared about her, even when the person she expected to be there was nowhere to be found.

She closed her eyes.

For a while, the room was peaceful.

Then a strange voice interrupted the quiet.

I hope the girl in bed seven doesn't recognise me. I wasn't supposed to hit that car.

Vivienne's eyes flew open.

She looked around.

Nobody stood near her bed.

The nurse's station was outside the open doorway, and a man in a maintenance uniform was walking past the room with a mop bucket.

Vivienne watched him disappear down the corridor.

Had she imagined that?

She pressed her fingers against her temples.

The concussion, perhaps. Pain medication. Lack of sleep.

There had to be a sensible explanation.

A few minutes later, a nurse entered to check her blood pressure.

Another long shift. If one more person complains about the food, I'm going to scream.

Vivienne blinked.

The nurse was smiling politely as she wrapped the cuff around Vivienne's arm.

“Is everything all right?” the nurse asked.

Vivienne studied her face.

The woman's lips hadn't moved.

Yet Vivienne had heard a voice.

Not through her ears.

Inside her head.

She swallowed.

“I'm fine.”

The nurse checked the monitor. At least this one is polite.

Vivienne went rigid.

The nurse looked up. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No.” Vivienne forced a laugh. “I think I just need more sleep.”

The nurse finished her checks and left.

Vivienne remained motionless.

She had heard the thoughts of two strangers.

That was impossible.

She was twenty-four, not a character in one of the paranormal romance novels she sometimes read when she couldn't sleep. People did not suddenly develop the ability to hear thoughts because they had been involved in a car accident.

Did they?

She pulled the blanket over herself.

“I'm tired,” she whispered. “That's all.”

But the explanation did not make the strange voices disappear.

That afternoon, her aunt arrived carrying a bag of food, toiletries, and enough fruit to feed an entire family.

Vivienne stared at the contents.

“Auntie, am I recovering from an accident or preparing for hibernation?”

“Eat.”

“I was only asking.”

“Then stop asking and eat.”

Vivienne laughed as her aunt arranged everything on the table.

For the next hour, she enjoyed the familiar sound of someone talking about ordinary things. Her aunt complained about traffic, told her about a neighbour's ridiculous argument, and asked whether Adrian had visited.

Vivienne's smile faltered.

“Not yet.”

Her aunt paused. “Has he called?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He's busy with his company.”

Her aunt's expression hardened.

“Busy?”

“Auntie.”

“No, let me speak. You were in an accident. You could have died.”

“But I didn't.”

“That is not the point, Vivienne.”

Vivienne lowered her eyes.

She knew what her aunt was thinking before the woman spoke.

*If that boy cannot show up now, what kind of husband will he be when life becomes difficult?*

Vivienne looked up sharply.

Her aunt was still looking at her, lips pressed together.

“You're right,” Vivienne said quietly. “But I don't want to fight about Adrian right now.”

Her aunt sighed and reached for her hand.

“I'm not asking you to fight. I'm asking you to pay attention.”

Vivienne squeezed her fingers.

“I will.”

She wanted to explain what had been happening. The voices. The thoughts. The strange feeling that strangers were speaking directly into her mind.

But how could she explain something she barely understood herself?

Her aunt might think she was confused from the concussion.

Perhaps she was.

So Vivienne kept quiet.

The following morning, a doctor visited with an update about the other people involved in the accident.

“The young woman from the other vehicle remains in critical condition,” he explained. “She is still unconscious, but the medical team is monitoring her closely.”

Vivienne's stomach tightened.

“And the man?”

“He was fortunate. His injuries were comparatively minor.”

Vivienne remembered the dark-haired stranger standing beside the wreckage. The image was blurred around the edges, but his face remained strangely vivid in her memory.

She had not seen him clearly enough to recognise him if he walked into the room.

Still, she wondered who he was.

“Can I ask their names?”

The doctor checked his notes. “The young woman is Molly. Her brother is listed as Tyrant.”

Tyrant.

Vivienne repeated the name silently.

It sounded less like a name and more like a warning.

“Is Molly going to recover?”

“We cannot promise anything yet, but we are doing everything possible.”

Vivienne nodded.

After the doctor left, she looked out of the window again.

She hoped Molly would wake up.

She hoped the man named Tyrant would be all right, too.

That was all.

They were strangers, and once she recovered, she would return to her own life. She would finish preparing for her wedding, continue building her fashion career, and stop imagining that the world had suddenly become stranger than it already was.

At least, that was the plan.

On her third night in the hospital, Vivienne discovered that her strange ability was not fading.

A cleaner walked into the room, humming softly.

*Please let this shift finish without another complaint.*

Vivienne stared at her.

The cleaner continued wiping the bedside table, completely unaware.

Later, a doctor entered and smiled.

*I need coffee. Three more patients, then I can finally sit down.*

Vivienne almost laughed.

She clamped a hand over her mouth.

This was real.

She could hear people's thoughts.

But she couldn't hear every thought all the time. Some voices appeared suddenly and disappeared before she could understand them. Others were little more than fleeting impressions.

And the thoughts were not always clear.

She could hear what people were thinking, but she could not tell whether every thought was true, exaggerated, or simply a passing fear.

That distinction mattered.

A thought was not proof.

She would have to learn that before she let this strange gift ruin her life.

Vivienne took out the small notebook her aunt had brought and wrote:

I can hear people's thoughts.

They don't always say what they think.

Hearing a thought doesn't mean I understand the whole truth.

She stared at the list.

Then she added a fourth line.

I might actually be losing my mind.

She put down the pen.

“Fantastic,” she whispered. “A concussion, a wedding, and telepathy. My life has officially become ridiculous.”

For the first time in days, she laughed without feeling like crying afterward.

She did not know that the accident had connected her fate to a family whose secrets could destroy empires.

She did not know that the man named Tyrant would one day stand before her with a gun in his hand and a debt to collect.

And she did not know that her ability would eventually reveal truths powerful people had spent their lives burying.

For now, she was simply a young woman in a hospital bed, trying to understand the voices in her head.

Tomorrow, the doctors might allow her to go home.

And when she did, she intended to reclaim her life.

Every last piece of it.