Too Strong to Save

Dad always said a mafia don's daughter had to be strong, even in the middle of a gunfight. Our family had just been ambushed by a rival crime family. A stray bullet grazed my little sister's arm. Mom cradled her protectively while Dad frantically called for an ambulance. I was the one who'd stood at the front, covering their escape. Now I lay on the ground with three bullets in my body, and nobody even looked at me. "Dad, I... it hurts so much." "You've always been strong. They're just a few bullets, and nothing vital was hit. Stop making such a scene!" Mom glanced back at me, then quickly turned away. "If you can still cry and shout, you can't be hurt that badly. Your sister's already lost so much blood. Are you really going to put her life at risk just to compete for our attention?" Dad patted my head to comfort me. "Rest here for a bit. The ambulance can't take all of us. We'll get your sister to the hospital and come back for you." Then they climbed into the ambulance with my sister and left without another glance. If they'd only looked closely, they would have seen that one of the bullets had also hit the left side of my chest. When I was six, I fell during family training and broke my forearm. All Dad offered was a few words of encouragement. "It's only a small injury. You'll heal soon. Learn to be strong." Later, after they adopted my little sister, she scraped her knee and Mom summoned the family's finest medical team and didn't leave her side for days. I'd spent fifteen years learning to be strong on my own. I was used to it. I lay quietly on the ground, watching the ambulance disappear. Mom, Dad, this time I'm being strong too. But I don't think I'll still be here when you come back. Chapter 1 "Doctor! Please, save Miss Anna! She's been shot!" Warren, my father's consigliere, found me lying alone on the ground, my face drained of color. He scooped me up and rushed me to the hospital. "She's been hit multiple times. She's barely conscious. She needs surgery right now!" The only person at the entrance was a nurse. "Stop! You'd better take her somewhere else," she warned. "The Don and Donna DeMarco are upstairs with their daughter. They've brought in every top surgeon in the hospital. Nobody's free to see anyone else!" "This is their daughter!" Warren shouted. "Their biological daughter!" He pushed past her and carried me straight to the second floor. My younger sister, Lillian, was on an operating table, waiting for a wound to be dressed. Doctors crowded around her. The moment my parents, Ryder and Christine DeMarco, saw Warren carrying me in, their faces darkened. "Warren," Dad snapped, "you're supposed to be my consigliere. Instead of helping me, you're bringing Anna in here to make trouble? "Lillian was grazed by a stray bullet. She's already lost so much blood. What if she goes into shock before they stop the bleeding?" Warren stared at him in disbelief, though he tried to conceal it. "Don DeMarco, Miss Anna took several bullets. She needs emergency surgery!" I watched my parents desperately, hoping that, just this once, they would choose to save me first. It hurt so much. I could barely breathe anymore. Dad didn't move an inch from Lillian's side. He gave me one brief glance. "Since you've brought her here, take her into the operating room next door. We'll come when they're finished with Lillian." If he'd looked at me for even a moment longer, he might have noticed the unnatural swelling of my chest. One of the bullets had torn through my lung. Air was entering my chest cavity, but it couldn't escape. The pressure inside had already climbed higher than the air outside, the classic sign of a tension pneumothorax. Next, my circulation would fail. Then my heart would stop. But Dad's eyes didn't stay on me for long. Lillian's voice pulled them right back to her. "Daddy, my arm hurts so much," Lillian whimpered. "Am I going to die?" Huge tears rolled down her cheeks. The father who had spent my entire life telling me to be strong was suddenly all tenderness. "Don't be scared, sweetheart. Mom and Dad aren't going anywhere. You have the finest medical team in the city. Nothing will happen to you." Then he rounded on the staff disinfecting her wound. "What the hell are you doing? You can't even treat a little cut without making her cry? Incompetent fools!" Warren looked at my face, growing paler by the second, and listened to my increasingly desperate breaths. "Don DeMarco, Miss Anna's condition is critical. She really can't wait." Dad didn't even turn around. "She's always been tough. A few bullets won't kill her. Lillian's delicate. Her wound needs proper attention, or it might scar." But Dad, I'm your daughter too. I'm only eighteen. And this time, being strong might not save me. With the last of my strength, I raised a trembling hand and pointed toward the operating room next door, signaling Warren to take me there. I knew Dad wasn't going to change his mind. Just then, a young doctor named Joanna arrived. She was new to the hospital, too junior to serve on the elite team assigned to Lillian. One look at me, and she let out a horrified cry. "She needs emergency treatment to relieve the pressure in her chest! Get an operating room ready!" A nurse leaned close and whispered, "The department head sent you to help with the patient next door. That one's more important." "This patient is dying," Joanna said. "If we don't act, she'll be dead. I'm not walking away." She changed into surgical scrubs while the nurse watched with open contempt. "Typical rookie. Haven't you noticed the Don and Donna DeMarco are next door? Who do you think is going to sign off on it?" Joanna ignored her and kept preparing. "Start fluids. Get ready to secure her airway. She's been shot more than once, and the pressure in her chest is critical. I need an experienced surgeon to assist me." She hurried into Lillian's operating room. "Don and Donna DeMarco," she said urgently, "a bullet passed through your daughter's lung. She's developed a tension pneumothorax and needs emergency surgery. She has other gunshot wounds that need treatment too. I need a senior surgeon to help." For a second, alarm crossed Dad's face. He looked at Joanna and opened his mouth to speak. Then Lillian's eyes filled with tears. "Daddy..." Chapter 2 Dad turned to Lillian immediately. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Anna's hurt that badly? It's all my fault," she sobbed. "If I hadn't insisted on coming along, you wouldn't have been so busy protecting me. You would've noticed Anna, and she wouldn't have been shot." Dad's expression hardened. He glared at Joanna. "Can't you see how badly Lillian's hurt? And you come in here to upset her? "If you frighten her into a worse condition, you'll pay for it with your life." Under the Don's furious stare, Joanna's knees nearly gave way. Still, she forced herself to speak. "But Anna really is in danger." "Get out!" he roared. "Until I'm certain Lillian is completely safe, no one comes in here to disturb us!" Joanna had no choice but to return to my operating room. By then, I could no longer breathe on my own. It felt as though my heart were splitting apart. "Get the epinephrine! One milligram, IV!" "Charge the defibrillator to two hundred joules. Everyone clear!" A dull thud sounded. And then the pain was gone. I looked down. Tubes ran in and out of my body. My chest still bulged in that grotesque way. So this was how ugly I looked now. I was floating near the ceiling, light and free, no longer struggling for breath. The agony that had consumed me moments earlier had vanished. Joanna called in every available doctor and nurse she could find. The operating room erupted into frantic activity. "The bullet perforated her lung! The tension pneumothorax caused cardiac arrest!" "We've given three doses of epinephrine. Still no response!" Alarms shrieked around the room. I hovered above these strangers, watching them fight for a girl they weren't related to. My parents, meanwhile, were next door with their adopted daughter. They hadn't spared a thought for the child who shared their blood. What a sick joke. Two years earlier, I'd come down with a bad case of acute gastroenteritis. One night, the pain got so bad that I was writhing on my bed. Dad stood beside me, perfectly calm. "It's just a stomachache. Everyone gets those. Rest tonight, and don't forget training in the morning." At the door, he paused to give me one final warning. "Your sister has a piano recital tomorrow. Your mother and I don't have time to sit here watching you put on an act. That's enough. Don't push it." Mom never even came to check on me. She was busy choosing Lillian's outfit for the recital. "Ryder, come here!" Her anxious voice carried clearly through the gap in my door. "Lillian just sneezed. I think she's coming down with something. Get the doctor. We can't let anything interfere with tomorrow's performance." My door slammed shut. I was left alone, in so much pain that I couldn't stand, much less call for help. If Nora Quinn, the housekeeper who usually looked after me, hadn't noticed something was wrong and come inside, I might have died in that room. The doctors said my intestine had perforated and caused severe peritonitis. I spent three days in intensive care. Meanwhile, my parents threw a party at home to celebrate Lillian's successful recital, proudly introducing their brilliant younger daughter to every guest. Back in the operating room, a doctor named Alan finally arrived. He was the department's senior specialist. Lillian must have finally been bandaged up. He pulled on sterile gloves, made a quick incision in my chest, and inserted a drainage tube. Dark blood laced with bubbles of trapped air gushed out through it. "She's lost over a liter of blood into her chest," he said. "Call the blood bank. Now!" His brow was deeply furrowed. A young nurse, her badge reading Becca Lyons, kept wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Contact Don DeMarco immediately. Anna needs emergency chest surgery." Becca's face darkened. She clearly didn't want to go. "Doctor, the Don and Donna DeMarco went upstairs to Lillian's VIP suite as soon as her dressing was finished. They never even came to look in here." "Then go upstairs and explain it to them yourself." Tears gathered in Becca's eyes. "I already told him in the corridor. He ordered me not to bother him. He said Lillian still wasn't out of danger, so he couldn't leave her." Alan froze for an instant. Then he resumed working. He glanced at the monitor, where the line had gone terrifyingly flat. "Go back," he said coldly. "Tell him Anna is dying." Chapter 3 I followed a terrified Becca straight through the operating room ceiling and drifted up to the VIP suites. The door to Lillian's room stood slightly open. Cheerful laughter floated into the hall. Lillian was propped against a mountain of pillows in brand-new silk pajamas, watching television. Her arm had been wrapped in the finest dressing the hospital could offer. Mom had even ordered a calming diffuser for the room so Lillian wouldn't get worked up again. Dad sat beside the bed with a small, elegant fruit knife, painstakingly picking every seed out of a bowl of watermelon. "Daddy, this isn't sweet enough. I don't want it." Lillian pushed the bowl away with a pout. Dad set it aside immediately and went to wash his hands. "Then you don't have to eat it, sweetheart. What would you like instead? I'll have someone bring it up." Lillian's eyes darted around. Then her expression turned worried. "I want Anna's lemon-pepper wings. But she still hasn't come to see me. Do you think she's angry? "This is all my fault. I kept insisting that Anna come out with us. If I hadn't, we wouldn't have been attacked. And Mom and Dad wouldn't have had to leave work to rescue us." A few perfectly timed tears slipped down her cheeks. "If something happened to Anna, I'd never forgive myself." Mom pulled Lillian into her arms and stroked her back. "Don't talk nonsense. This is your sister's fault, not yours! "She's your older sister. Protecting you is her responsibility. She failed you, and you got hurt. If she got shot too, she brought it on herself." Mom gave a disgusted snort. "Besides, I checked. Nothing vital was hit. She's not going to die. She's just jealous, and she talked Warren into putting on a show for us. "I already sent Alan down to see her. Just wait until she comes up here. She'll hear exactly what I think of this stunt." Becca stood frozen outside the door, unable to bring herself to interrupt. She drew a deep breath. Finally, she knocked. "Don DeMarco? Donna DeMarco? Anna is in surgery, and her condition is very serious. "She has a tension pneumothorax and severe internal bleeding. The doctor needs you to come downstairs." The laughter stopped. Mom came to the doorway and stared down at Becca, her gaze cold enough to freeze someone solid. "You have the nerve to lie to us for Anna?" Becca wrung her hands, her voice shaking. "Donna DeMarco, I'm not lying! The doctor is trying to save her. Anna has already gone into cardiac arrest twice!" Dad strode over and kicked Becca aside. "How much did Anna pay you to play along with this? "Tell that ungrateful girl the harder she tries to manipulate us, the less likely we are to come see her. "Lillian needs rest. Get out, and don't disturb her again!" Becca hit the floor. From the bed, Lillian curled up as though the commotion had terrified her. She burst into tears. "Mommy, she's so loud. My head hurts." Mom rushed to wrap her in her arms and called over the doctor waiting nearby to examine her. Then she muttered, "I should never have let Alan go downstairs. Lillian needs him far more." She turned back toward the doorway. "I don't believe Anna could possibly die from this. How dare she joke about something so serious? When we get home, she's going to be punished. "Why are you still here? Get out!" Chapter 4 Becca scrambled to her feet and fled toward the stairs. I hovered in the corner of Lillian's room, watching Dad and Mom sit on either side of her bed like devoted guards. Whatever feeling I had left for them finally went still. Two years earlier, I'd completed my schooling and every part of my family's training program. I wanted to go to Port Calloway and expand our operations there. I'd packed my things. Our people in the city were ready to meet me. Then Dad confiscated everything I'd prepared and canceled the arrangements in Port Calloway. He told me to stay home and practice cooking instead. Lillian had a poor appetite, he said. She barely ate unless I was the one preparing her meals. If I left, who would cook for her? I begged them through tears. "I have things I want to accomplish too. I want to prove I can make our family stronger. "I'm only going there to grow the business. It could take our whole family to the next level." Mom slapped me hard across the face. "How can you be so selfish? You'd chase your own glory and not care whether your sister lives or dies! "You think you're grown now? With that attitude, you'd only waste the family's resources if we sent you away." That was when I finally understood my place in this house. I existed to serve Lillian. My own life wasn't something I was allowed to have. Downstairs, the operating room lights burned painfully bright. Alan's white coat was soaked through with blood. "Her pressure is still falling! We can't get it up!" "She's lost more than two liters through the chest drain. The bleeding won't stop!" The overlapping alarms sounded like a funeral dirge played just for me. Alan kept performing chest compressions, refusing to pause. Sweat ran down his face. My chest had caved in under the force of his compressions. "Alan. It's time." Joanna gently caught his wrist. Exhaustion weighed down her voice. "Her pupils are fixed and dilated. The monitor's been flat for more than twenty minutes. "You have to let her go." Alan sagged to the floor as though every bit of strength had drained out of him. He stared at the straight line on the monitor, his eyes bloodshot. Becca stumbled back into the room. "Doctor, the Don and Donna DeMarco said Anna was faking. They won't come. They ordered us not to go upstairs again because Lillian needs to rest." For a moment, it was as if everyone had stopped breathing. They looked from Becca to my ruined body on the operating table, unable to believe a girl's own parents could behave that way. Alan tore off his sterile gloves and dropped them on the floor. "Time of death," he said, his voice shaking despite his effort to control it. "Four fifty a.m. "Give me the death certificate. I'll take it to Don DeMarco myself." From above, I watched a nurse draw a white sheet over me, slowly covering my feet, my legs, my chest, and finally my face. It was over. No more contempt. No more favoritism. No more insults from the people who were supposed to love me. I followed Alan back to the VIP floor. The corridor was unnaturally quiet. Every doctor and nurse on duty seemed afraid to speak above a whisper. Alan's footsteps rang against the tiles. He knocked on Lillian's door and entered. "Don DeMarco, this is Anna's death certificate." Dad didn't look at it. He reached out to shove Alan back into the hallway. "You're one of the best doctors we have, Alan. Don't tell me you're in on Anna's little act too. "I already told you, she can put on whatever performance she wants. I'm not going to comfort her. If she's got the guts, she can stay in that operating room for the rest of her life." Mom carefully fitted noise-blocking earplugs into the sleeping Lillian's ears, then stepped outside and gently closed the door behind her. "Alan, you've saved our family more times than I can count, so we'll let this go. "Please leave. Lillian has only just fallen asleep. You know she doesn't sleep well, and she's had a terrible fright today. We can't have you waking her." But Lillian wasn't going to stay asleep. She took out her earplugs and came to the doorway. "Doctor, don't let Anna fool you. She's done things like this since we were little. She even hurts herself to get Mom and Dad's attention." Alan gave a strange, humorless laugh. He held up the death certificate so all three of them could see it clearly. "Don and Donna DeMarco, I'm not lying. "Anna wasn't putting on an act. She's dead. "Please look over the death certificate. Her body is still in the operating room. Where would you like us to take her?"