Chapter 2 – THE MAFIA BOSS WHO SAID THANK YOU

The entrance hall was larger than Delaney’s entire apartment building.

A crystal chandelier hung above a sweeping staircase.

Oil paintings lined the walls.

The marble floor reflected the warm light.

But Delaney barely noticed any of it.

She was watching Damon Bianchi.

He stood beside his mother while a physician examined her.

Dr. Eleanor Voss had arrived within minutes.

She checked Mrs. Bianchi’s temperature, blood pressure, and other vital signs.

The elderly woman had been dangerously cold.

She was also dehydrated.

The physician recommended continued monitoring and further medical evaluation.

Damon listened carefully.

“Will she be okay?”

Dr. Voss nodded cautiously.

“She is improving, but we need to understand why she wandered and whether there are other medical concerns.”

Damon looked at his mother.

She smiled faintly.

“Stop frowning.”

He laughed without humor.

“Mom.”

She patted his hand.

“You’ll get wrinkles.”

Delaney stood near the doorway.

She felt out of place.

Her uniform smelled faintly of soup.

Her hair was damp.

Her feet ached.

And she had no idea how to leave without offending the people who had brought her there.

Damon noticed.

“Miss Whitfield.”

She straightened.

“Yes?”

He approached.

“Thank you.”

She blinked.

“For what?”

His expression changed.

“For saving my mother.”

Delaney shook her head.

“I just brought her inside.”

“You found her in the snow.”

“She needed help.”

He studied her.

“You didn’t know who she was?”

“No.”

“Not even her name?”

“She couldn’t remember it.”

Damon looked toward the sitting room.

Then back at Delaney.

“My mother’s name is Isabella Bianchi.”

Delaney nodded.

“She’s lovely.”

For the first time, Damon smiled.

“She can be.”

He gestured toward a chair.

“Please sit.”

Delaney hesitated.

“I’m okay.”

“You’ve been working all day.”

She stared.

“How do you know?”

Frank answered from the doorway.

“Your manager said you were finishing a double shift.”

Delaney looked down.

“Oh.”

A housekeeper brought tea and sandwiches.

Delaney’s stomach growled loudly.

She flushed.

Damon pretended not to notice.

“Eat,” he said gently.

She looked at the plate.

Then at him.

“Are you sure?”

He frowned.

“Of course.”

She took a sandwich.

The first bite nearly made her cry.

She hadn’t eaten since noon.

Damon sat across from her.

“Miss Whitfield, my mother has been experiencing episodes of confusion.”

Delaney nodded.

“She seemed frightened.”

He looked down.

“She was diagnosed with a cognitive disorder last year. Some days she’s completely herself. Other days she becomes disoriented.”

Delaney listened.

“She kept asking for you.”

His expression softened.

“She did?”

Delaney nodded.

“She said you worry too much.”

He laughed quietly.

“That sounds like her.”

He looked at her again.

“Did she say anything else?”

Delaney smiled.

“She said you were a solemn little boy.”

Damon closed his eyes.

Then laughed.

A real laugh.

It surprised everyone in the room.

Isabella appeared in the doorway, supported by her caregiver.

“It’s true,” she announced.

Damon stood.

“Mom, you should be resting.”

She waved him away.

“Stop ordering everyone around.”

Delaney laughed.

Damon looked at her.

And for the first time that night, he looked less like a feared man and more like a son.

Later, Damon offered to arrange a car to take Delaney home.

She accepted.

Before leaving, Isabella took her hand.

“Will you come back?”

Delaney hesitated.

“I don’t know.”

The older woman looked disappointed.

Damon watched quietly.

Then said:

“Only if you want to.”

Delaney smiled.

“I’d like that.”

As she walked toward the waiting car, Damon followed.

“Miss Whitfield.”

She turned.

“Yes?”

He hesitated.

“Is there anything you need?”

Delaney looked at him.

Then smiled sadly.

“A good night’s sleep.”

He nodded.

“I hope you get one.”

The car drove away.

Damon remained beneath the entrance lights.

Frank approached.

“Sir?”

Damon looked toward the road.

“Find out whether she got home safely.”

Frank nodded.

“And nothing else?”

Damon was silent.

Then said:

“Nothing else without her permission.”

Inside the mansion, Isabella watched from the window.

She smiled to herself.

For the first time in years, her son had looked at someone without suspicion.

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