Sold to Mr. Giordano

It’s been a week since Angelo has been gone without reason and without any clues. No message from the Bratva, no indication a member from the Outfit took him and no clues that this was strategy by New York.

He’s simply gone.

Gone and no one knows if he’s dead or alive.

I remember him telling me before that if Antonio ever beat me or did something so horrid—that he would use his contacts to get me a fake passport and out of the country. I wonder if he’s done that.

Angelo would never. As much as he hates my father and my brother and their cruelness—he loves his duty to the mafia. Loves being a Made Man. He’d never leave. He certainly would never leave without telling me.

Antonio bursts through the bedroom door out of breath. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days and his outfit is all disheveled. He’s not wearing his usual suit jacket or tie. The sleeves on his white button up are rolled up and is loosely tucked into his wrinkled black pants. His wavy dark hair which is always slicked back, is now hanging in front of his face and curlier than usual.

“We found him.”

I jump out of my bed and without question head to my wardrobe to find clothes. Antonio grabs my wrist stopping me. He shakes his head. “You don’t want to see him like this.”

“What do you mean?” I yank my hand out of his grip. “He’s my brother! Are you forgetting I saw him when he was in the hospital the night before our wedding?” I put my hands on my hips stubbornly.

Eyn”This is worse. He’s alive. He’ll… recover. I just don’t think you should see him like this. Besides, he’s hardly conscious right now with all the pain medication he’s taken.”

“Take. Me. Now.” I demand.

Antonio sighs and rubs his face harshly. “Arielle, no.”

“Please!” I cry. “He’s the only family I have.” Even if it isn’t technically true, Angelo is the only family member who has ever cared about me, who has ever been there for me. Now with my mom’s vacation disappearance and Luca and my father being the cold hearted people I’ve always known—Angelo is the only one I have in this life.

Aside from the baby growing in your stomach.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

And your husband.

“Fine, but one hitch if your breath, or wide eyed tear filled look, I will drag you out of the room. I don’t want this to stress you or the baby out. Am I clear?”

“Sure. Yes, just please take me now!”

Antonio had Steven bring the car out front as I dressed for the day and spent a few extra minutes grabbing a quick snack. Grabbing my jacket, Antonio and I ride the elevator down to the lobby and to the car.

The entire way there I fidget with my fingers and stare out the window at the passing bystanders in the street with strollers or business cases. They are bundled in scarves and wool jackets that button high to cover the lower half of faces as the wind blows their hairs back and snow catches in their eyes.

If it weren’t for the busy Chicago traffic, we would’ve arrived at the hospital a good twenty minutes prior. No matter that car ride would still feel like hours. Antonio presses the button for the sixth floor and I feel the need to pace the elevator feeling nervous, anxious and scared.

When the elevator door opens, I clutch Antonio’s hand as he guides me down the hall into a secluded wing of the hospital that no doubt Antonio pulled strings to get him into. The first thing I notice is that it is a big room one that people who would spend months in the hospital would stay in. A room where a family would stay because their daughter is battling cancer.

The man in the hospital cot is unrecognizable. His face swollen, his dark hair shaved in places and on those bare patches is new black stitches. His arm is in a cast, the other arm looks like his shoulder might’ve been dislocated… broken ribs… busted lip… swollen eyes… missing fingernails.

It’s all too much. I refuse to react though, Angelo needs me and I won’t Antonio take me away because I start crying. I fight the burning, stinging sensation in my eyes. I walk slowly toward him and take the chair next to the bed. I brush his hair off his forehead and place a soft kiss against the skin there.

“Oh Angelo, what did they do to you?” I whisper.

He begins to wake up, only one of his eyes open and even then he can only open it to a slit. He opens his mouth but the only thing that comes out is a croak. I stare at the red and purple bruises on his neck that tells me he was either choked or tied by the neck.

“Who did this to you?” My voice cracks.

Angelo just stares at me.

“He can’t hear you,” Antonio says from behind me.

“Why?” I turn to look at my husband. I try not to wear the frantic, worried expression begging to come through.

“The doctor said his eardrums are ruptured. At the moment he’s deaf. They won’t know if it’s temporary or permanent until the test results come back.”

“Deaf?” I gulp. I go to reach for his hand but the cuts and peeled off nails cause me to pull back. It looks painful and the last thing I want to do is make things worse by touching him.

“They should be coming soon with the results.”

I nod my head and continue to stare at my brother. I notice a few tears forming in the swell of his eyes. His eye is piercing me with a glint of pain and torture. My heart drops into my stomach at what he endured.

“I’m so sorry,” I shake my head and a tear escapes. I quickly wipe it before Antonio notices.

If he noticed he didn’t say anything as he continues to stand at a distance near the door as if he’s watching and waiting for intruders.

I find a small spot on his forearm untouched, surprisingly, and rub it trying to comfort him. After a few minutes he closes his eyes and doesn’t wake back up.

The doctor comes in about ten minutes later to talk about Angelo. “Your brother has experienced significant trauma. Lacerations spanning across his body, worse on his back and arms. The nails on his fingers we expect to grow back without a problem. His shoulder will heal in time as well as the broken arm. He has a few cracked ribs and we noticed a busted kneecap as well. His concussion will make him sensitive to light, the hair on his head all begin to grow back and it’ll take standard time for the stitches to heal as well. His throat was nearly crushed and should be sore, he may not be able to talk for a while aside from gruff word or two. As for his ears, he seems to have lost his hearing completely in his right and half in his left. When we gave him his test, he communicated that there is tinnitus in the left. It will be a long recovery, Mrs. Giordano.”

I swallow hard. “Thank you, Doctor.”

He nods his head and excuses himself leaving Antonio and I to our privacy with Angelo.

“I want whoever did this to pay,” I cry out and wipe my wet eyes on my sleeve. I no longer care about getting worked up. “I want them dead!”

“I know, Ary,” Antonio gathers me into his arms and rubs my back in soothing circles. “Don’t worry, they’ll pay.”