“My ex-wife Angelina shot you in the chest when she came to the house yesterday. You came to the hospital, had an operation to remove the bullet, and now you are in the ward recovering.” He’s so matter-of-fact, and I can’t get past how his voice no longer feels like the familiar warm hug I remember, but distant and cold. So much so, my body shivers under the featherlight white hospital gown I am wearing.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him, but his lips press together. He is clearly unhappy.

“Oh good, she is awake,” a doctor says as she walks in the door, interrupting our moment. She is stunning, dressed in a crisp white medical coat, her hair long and glossy, her face immaculate in perfect makeup, as she walks up to my bed and begins to look over my chart.

“You are a very lucky woman, Miss Peterson. I’m Dr. Wakeford. I have been looking after you since you came in the ambulance yesterday. Tell me, what do you remember?” she asks me, looking at me with caring eyes, the type I expected from Dante who is now back across the room, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenching. He couldn’t get farther away from me if he tried.

My eyes dart between him and the doctor.

“She is trusted, Red. You can tell her,” Dante grits out to me, and my eyes widen, still shocked at his tone.

“Ahh… well, I remember being at home...” I start, but don’t miss the cracking noise that comes from Dante as he moves his head from side to side. Why is he so angry?

“Umm, and then Leo’s mother came in...” My eyes widen, and I sit up. “Leo?” I say in a panicked tone.

“He is fine, Red,” Dante says, softening a little, and I take a breath and relax back down against my pillow.

“Go on,” the doctor says as she records my pulse and listens to my recollection.

“Then she shot me, and that is all I remember,” I say as my mind flicks through the mental images that float in my brain of the memory.

“Okay. Well, all your vital signs are good. We had you in surgery yesterday. The bullet went into your right upper chest, between your breast and shoulder. We managed to remove the bullet. You were very lucky, as it missed your main artery and was easy to remove,” Doctor Wakeford says, and I nod as I take in her prognoses.

“While we had you in surgery to remove the bullet, we ran some scans and they showed a mass in your right breast. Were you aware of the lump, Miss Peterson?” she asks me, and my breath gets caught in my throat. I look at Dante, whose eyes are laser-focused on me, and the penny drops. He knows. The beeping on the monitor quickens, and Dante clenches his jaw.