Chapter 5 - THE BRITTLE PEACE
Three days later, Gia was moved out of the PICU and into a private recovery room overlooking the sunlit courtyard of Saint Jude’s.
The color was slowly returning to her cheeks. Though she was still pale and weak, her dark eyes sparkled with mischief as she clutched Cornelio the rabbit to her chest.
Iris walked into the room with her clipboard tucked under her arm, wearing her white lab coat over a simple navy dress.
“How is my favorite clock ticking today?” Iris asked, checking the digital readout on the IV pole.
“Fast!” Gia announced proudly. “Papa says it’s a racehorse now.”
Iris smiled, glancing over at Salvatore, who sat in a chair beside the bed, peeling an orange with a small pocket knife with ridiculous concentration.
“Your father is prone to dramatic exaggerations,” Iris said dryly. “It’s a healthy, normal heart that needs rest, not a racehorse.”
Salvatore handed a clean slice of orange to Gia on a small paper plate, then looked up at Iris. There was a quiet warmth in his eyes that he didn't bother to hide anymore.
“You saved her life, Dr. Delaqua,” Salvatore said softly once Gia had drifted off to sleep, exhausted by five minutes of talking. “There is no debt I wouldn't clear for you. No favor I wouldn't grant.”
“You don't owe me anything, Mr. Mancini,” Iris said, setting the chart down on the bedside table. “I did my job. It’s what I took an oath to do.”
“An oath is just words on paper unless there is honor behind it,” Salvatore replied, standing up. He was taller than her, his broad frame casting a long shadow across the hospital floor, but the intimidation was gone, replaced by an unsettling, magnetic sincerity. “You looked into the dark corners of my past, you found the worst parts of me, and you didn't run. In my world, that makes you the most dangerous and valuable person I’ve ever met.”
Iris felt a sudden warmth rise in her chest—not of fear, but of an entirely different kind of awareness. She looked at his hands—strong, scarred, capable of unspeakable violence, yet right now, peeling fruit for a sleeping child with infinite gentleness.
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“Be careful, Mr. Mancini,” Iris murmured, stepping closer than professional distance strictly allowed. “People who play with fire usually end up getting burned.”
“I’ve lived in the fire my whole life, Doctor,” Salvatore replied, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes again. “For the first time... I think I’m finally learning how to feel warm.”
