The Don's Doctor

I'll Help You

Chiara's POV

When I return to my room, feeling like I have lived the entire day within the span of the morning, I am shocked to see that Vincent had cleared out one side of the walk-in wardrobe for me to store my clothes in. Clearly, he thought I would need the space for the long-run, but after today, I know I have to put a time limit on this strange part of my life. I have decided that if my safety isn’t ensured within the next two months, I will move to a place where no-one can find me and start my life over. Organising my clothes is therapeutic, until I come across my intimate item. Where can I store it discretely? Deciding to hide it in my underwear drawer, I hope that the toweling it is wrapped in will keep it out of sight.

It isn’t until my bag is empty that I realise that I had packed my Tylenol, but not my sanitary napkins. I have been feeling the dreaded cramps for the past few days and know that Mother Nature’s arrival is imminent, so it had been my intention to pack it first, but I had been distracted. I didn’t want to ask Vincent for such an intimate item, or Renzo, not that I could, because he is officially shunning me until further notice. My only option is to ask Viviana, she would surely have some that she could let me have, and while I am there I can ask her how we could get them if we aren’t allowed to go shopping. Following the oil paintings, I stop when I see a picture of The Madonna, remembering that this is where her room is, next to the nursery. Preparing myself for an unpredictable reception, which seems to be written in the Benedetti DNA, I raise my hand to knock, only to pause when I could hear whispered snarling from behind the door.

“I’ve told you we were nothing. Stop calling me, I don’t want to hear from you again…No I’m not scared of my brother, but you should be. We had a fling and now it’s over…No there’s nothing left to say.”

I wait for an extended period of silence, before I knock to ensure that she has ended her call, and wouldn’t know what I had heard.

“Come in!” She calls, frostily.

Her room is an extension of her personality. Cobalt blue covers the walls, just dark enough to only be on the edge of chilling, and her oversized headboard is a smooth suede, the epitome of luxurious.

“Did you hear enough of my private conversation? I thought you were a doctor, but I see we can add spy to your skill set!” She swipes at me, and I’m momentarily caught off guard.

“I could see your feet in the gap under the door. Are you going to run and tell my brother now?” She pins me in place with her stare, and I rush to explain.

“No, I came to see if you had any sanitary napkins, because I don’t know who else I can ask in this house. I did hear your conversation, but it was an accident, and I most certainly won’t rush to tell your brother, who I can guarantee will be unreasonable about it. Although you could have asked me these things, rather than accusing me!” I answer her, adopting some of her cold delivery.

Rolling her eyes, she goes to her en-suite and produces a pack of napkins for me. Gratefully, I take them, and plan to leave, before she shocks me with a softer, more vulnerable tone.

“I think my brother will kill the man who got me pregnant. I can’t let that happen, because I love Valentino’s father with every piece of me that is left after becoming an orphan, and watching my brother become the bully he is now. I was at university when my parents died. I went home for the funeral, but I went back to try and finish my degree. Vincent had become paranoid and there were more bodyguards than students in some of my lectures for a time. Loneliness was unbearable. I had lost my parents and I thought my brother would die by the end of the month, everything was so violent. I met someone who helped me, and I opened up to him in every way. I let him see the true me, the softer sides of me. The minute I realised I was pregnant, I went home. I never told my love that I was having his child. Instead, I gave birth at a hospital surrounded by strangers. My first visitor was Renzo and my second was Vincent. If I told him, he would come here, because he is a man of honour, and then I would be responsible for his death.”

When I look at her, I see the tears spilling over her eye line, and the anger she feels at herself because of her moment of weakness. She needs a friend desperately. Despite my apprehension at her reaction, I reach out and hug her, and feel relief when she hugs me back. Two prisoners, locked together and supporting each other.

“I won’t tell anyone anything you ever tell me. I’d really like to be your friend. I don’t know why you can’t be with the person you love, but if there’s anything I can do to make that happen, just ask and I promise I will help you.” I vow.

She had shared enough for one day, but I knew she trusted me more than she had trusted anyone in a while. We check on Valentino, who is enjoying his afternoon nap and nip into the kitchen for some lunch. Two delicious caprese salads later, we are sipping on coffee and laughing like old friends. Attracted by our chatter, the housekeeper comes in to check on us, beaming at Viviana.

“Hello, Helena. In the future, could you get double of my usual supply of monthly equipment?” Viviana asks, inviting me in to the knowledge of her supply chain for personal items.

Mrs Helena nods, and gives Viviana a quick hug before leaving the kitchen. Responsibility soon interrupts our much-needed leisure, when Renzo walks in carrying Valentino. Taking her son, Viviana goes to change his diaper, before taking him for a walk around the gardens. Renzo goes into the fridge and pulls out a bowl of risotto, he navigates the kitchen with ease.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh in eighteen months. I’m sorry I was angry with you before. I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping everything on a simmer, but I’ll admit your methods are much better. I don’t care about the business, I only care for those two and Vincent, they are my family.” I held up my drink in cheers, mainly because I hate an atmosphere.

“Is that when you moved in? Eighteen months ago?” I asked him, wondering how he connected to everyone.

“Not really. I moved in when I was ten, after my parents died. Vincent’s father raised us as family. It’s been the objective of my life to protect him. He’s my brother.” He explains, before taking his meal back to his office.

I wish I could believe that their bond grew organically from children playing together, but the more I learn about the history of this family, the more jaded I become. It must have been a long strategic game for Benedetti senior to groom Renzo into being a bodyguard for his son. Imagine a life where you accepted that you should die in place of your leader from a young age. The thought made me sick.

Lost for things to do until the evening calls, I pull my laptop from the case, and made the best use of my empty time. I start my article for the medical journal: Impactful strategies for trauma cases with limited resources. It had been something I had been theorising since I had worked for ‘Doctors without Borders’. How could hemorrhage be prevented when resources were sparse? Physically, I had some ideas, but metaphorically looking at this family, I wondered if there would ever be enough dressing to repair the damage caused.