Chapter 4 - The Recovery of Sarah Peterson
The next morning, Emma woke up to the smell of pancakes and hot chocolate. The room she was in looked like a palace from a fairy tale, with white furniture, velvet curtains, and a window that looked out over acres of manicured green lawns and a shimmering swimming pool.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, momentarily forgetting the terror of the previous night until she saw the strangers. Mrs. Gable entered carrying a silver tray, followed by Matteo, who looked sharp and imposing in a tailored grey suit.
"Good morning, Emma," Mrs. Gable said warmly, setting the tray across her lap. "Are you hungry?"
Emma looked at the food, then immediately looked at Matteo. "Where is Matt?"
"I'm right here," Matteo said, stepping forward. Without the black trench coat, he looked less like a shadow and more like a man, though the hard lines of his jaw still spoke of a dangerous life.
"You look different," Emma said, eyeing his suit. "Are you a prince?"
Matteo choked slightly on his own breath. Mrs. Gable hid a giggle behind her hand.
"No, Emma. I'm just a businessman," Matteo said, sitting on a chair near the bed. "How do you feel?"
"My tummy hurts a little. But the bed is bouncy." She picked up a fork and hesitated. "Can I see my mama?"
Matteo’s expression became serious, though gentle. "Your mama is at a very special hospital. She had to have surgery on her head because she was hurt badly. But the doctor told me this morning that she woke up. She’s going to be okay, Emma. But she needs to rest for a few days before she can see you."
Tears welled up in Emma’s blue eyes, but they were tears of relief. "Can I call her?"
"Not yet. She needs to sleep. But I promise you, the moment she is strong enough, I will take you to her." Matteo stood up and walked to the window. "For now, you're going to stay here with me and Mrs. Gable. You're safe. No one can hurt you here."
"Is... is he coming back?" Emma whispered, her voice dropping to a terrified lower register.
Matteo turned around. The cold, unyielding mafia boss masked his expression perfectly, but his voice carried the weight of an absolute truth. "No. Derek Walsh is never coming back. He can never hurt you or your mother again. I give you my word."
Meanwhile, at the Brookline clinic, Sarah Peterson woke up to a reality she didn't recognize. The room was luxurious, filled with fresh flowers, and a state-of-the-art heart monitor hummed quietly beside her. Her head was bandaged, and her body ached, but the constant, crushing fear that had defined her life for the past two years was strangely absent.
A man in a white coat entered, followed by Vincent.
"Where... where am I?" Sarah gasped, trying to sit up, her hands instantly flying to her stomach in a protective instinct. "Where is Emma? Oh God, where is my daughter?"
"Calm down, Ms. Peterson," Dr. Evans said, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "You're safe. You're in a private medical facility. Your daughter Emma is completely unharmed. She is currently staying at a secure estate under the personal protection of my employer."
Sarah looked at Vincent, whose sharp suit and alert posture screamed danger. "Who is your employer? Is he... is he one of Derek’s friends? Did Derek take her?"
Vincent stepped forward, bowing his head slightly in respect. "Ms. Peterson, Derek Walsh is currently in a very dark room answering for what he did to you. My employer is Matteo Reichi. He received a text message from your daughter last night by mistake. He answered it personally."
Sarah’s eyes widened. Living in Boston, everyone knew the name Reichi, even if they only whispered it in fear. The Reichi family controlled the docks, the unions, the shadows. "The mafia? You have my daughter? Please, don't hurt her! Take whatever we have, just please don't hurt my baby!"
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"Ms. Peterson, if the Boss wanted to hurt her, I wouldn't be standing here offering you the best neurological care in New England," Vincent said quietly. "He saved her. He saved you. You have nothing to fear from us. Just focus on healing. The Boss will bring Emma to see you as soon as the doctors clear it."
Sarah sank back into her pillows, her mind spinning. Her daughter had texted a mafia don, and instead of a death sentence, it had brought them a shield.
