Chapter 1 - The Stranger I Was Never Supposed To Meet
A young woman sat beside a sleeping man, whispering: "Don't worry. I'll come back tomorrow."
When mafia boss Adrian Moretti woke up after nineteen days, he found a small sketchbook beside his hospital bed. Inside the last drawing were three words written beneath his face: "I know you're listening."
Adrian realized the woman who visited him every morning was not a stranger.
For the first time in nineteen days, Gina Moretti felt like the man in front of her was more than just a patient.
She had entered the wrong room by accident.
That was the truth she repeated to herself every morning.
The first time she walked into the VIP hospital floor, she was only looking for a quiet place to finish her sketches before her shift started. Gina worked as a hospital assistant, and her job usually meant carrying paperwork, helping nurses, and cleaning rooms that most people never noticed.
She was invisible.
That was how she liked it.
But on that morning, she pushed open a door with the number 1907 and stepped into a world that was never meant for her.
The room was different from every other hospital room.
It was larger.
More expensive.
Too quiet.
A man was lying on the bed near the window.
Machines surrounded him.
A breathing tube covered part of his face.
His eyes were closed.
At first, Gina thought she had entered the wrong room.
She immediately stepped backward.
"I'm sorry. I must have the wrong patient."
She was about to leave when she noticed something strange.
Nobody was there.
No family.
No visitors.
No flowers.
No photographs.
Nothing that showed someone cared about the man lying there.
Only a security guard outside the door.
Only expensive equipment.
Only silence.
Something about that bothered Gina.
She looked at the man's face.
He looked younger than she expected.
Dangerous, but peaceful.
The kind of face that seemed like it carried hundreds of secrets.
She didn't know his name.
She didn't know why two guards stood outside his room.
She didn't know that newspapers had spent years calling Adrian Moretti one of the most feared men on the East Coast.
She only saw a lonely person.
And loneliness was something Gina understood.
She placed her sketchbook on the small table beside the bed.
Then she started drawing.
She began with his jaw.
It was easier than looking at the rest of him.
Every morning after that, she returned.
At first, she told herself it was only because she felt guilty.
She had entered his room.
She had disturbed his privacy.
She wanted to apologize when he woke up.
But after three days, she started talking.
After seven days, she started telling him stories.
After twelve days, she started believing he could hear her.
"Today was terrible," she whispered one morning while drawing. "A nurse spilled coffee on my paperwork and blamed me."
The unconscious man didn't move.
Gina smiled.
"You're lucky. You don't have to deal with people."
She looked at his face.
Then she laughed softly.
"Actually, maybe you do."
Outside the room, the security guards watched her.
They had questions.
Nobody visited Adrian Moretti.
Nobody was allowed near him without permission.
Everyone knew what happened when Adrian trusted someone.
But Gina was different.
She didn't ask questions.
She didn't fear him.
She didn't know who he was.
That was exactly why she was dangerous.
On the nineteenth morning, Gina walked into the room carrying her sketchbook.
She sat beside Adrian like always.
She opened to a blank page.
"You know," she said quietly, "I think this is my best drawing of you."
Her pencil moved slowly.
She captured his sharp features.
His closed eyes.
The small scar near his eyebrow.
Then something happened.
The pencil stopped.
Because Adrian's fingers moved.
Only slightly.
But Gina noticed.
She leaned closer.
"Did you just..."
The machines continued beeping.
His hand moved again.
Gina stood up.
Her heart started racing.
For nineteen days, she had spoken to a man who never answered.
Now she was standing beside a man who might actually hear her.
Then Adrian's eyes slowly opened.
The first thing he saw was Gina.
A woman holding a pencil.
A woman who looked more terrified than he felt.
His voice was weak.
Almost a whisper.
"Who are you?"
Gina couldn't answer.
Because before she could speak, Adrian looked at the sketchbook in her hands.
His expression changed.
Not because she drew him.
Because of what was written under the drawing.
A name.
A name that should have been impossible for a stranger to know.
May you like
Adrian slowly reached for the notebook and whispered...
"Where did you hear my brother's name?"
