The Don's Daughter He Left to Bleed novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Flowers for the Hero

Gabriel visits with roses and says he did not see her fall; Nina lets him lie in front of the staff, and Giacomo says the shooter's nest was in the Falco Media tower.

My husband came to see me at three o'clock the next afternoon, with roses and a camera crew.

I had called him myself at noon.

I used my plain voice, the weak one, the one he knew from seven years of colds and bad news.

"I'm at St. Brigid's," I said. "They put me in a private room."

"Nina." He sounded relieved, and I hated how real it sounded. "Thank God. I've been looking everywhere. Stay there."

"Where else would I go?"

He did not hear what was under that.

St. Brigid's was a small private hospital that belonged to my father through three other names.

The room had a window onto a parking lot and a nurse who had once held a gun on a man for me when I was fourteen.

Giacomo stood in the corner in a plain grey orderly's jacket.

He had not slept.

"You don't have to do this," he said quietly.

"I do."

"He will lie."

"I know," I said. "I want to see how."

At three o'clock the door opened.

Gabriel came in first, in a navy suit, with the roses held in front of him like a prize.

A cameraman followed him, and a producer with a tablet, and last of all Brooke, with her arm in a neat white sling.

Her arm was not hurt.

I had watched her lift both hands over her mouth the night before.

"Nina," Gabriel said. "My God. Look at you."

He kissed my forehead.

The cameraman got it from three angles.

"The network wanted to be here," Gabriel said, turning slightly toward the lens. "We're all so worried about you."

"Is that why they're filming?" I said.

"It's for the six o'clock. People want to know you're safe."

He laid the roses on my blanket.

There was a card in them that said *Get well soon, from your Falco Media family.*

Brooke stepped forward and took my hand in both of hers.

"I've been sick about it," she said, and her eyes filled. "I didn't even know you were hurt until they told me at the hospital. I'm so, so sorry."

"You were hurt too," I said, looking at the sling.

"A sprain. From the crush."

She laughed softly, and Gabriel put a hand on her shoulder.

I looked at the hand.

I looked at where it stayed.

"Gabriel," I said. "I was on the floor for a long time."

"I know. It was chaos. The whole building was screaming."

"I called your name twice. You turned around and looked at me."

His face did not change.

I watched it not change.

"Honey, I didn't see you," he said. "I swear to you. The lights were in my eyes. I thought you'd gone out with the others."

"You thought I'd gone out with the others," I said.

"Everyone ran."

"You stepped over my legs."

Silence.

The producer lowered her tablet.

Behind the camera, the nurse who had once held a gun for me adjusted my drip and said nothing, very loudly.

"I did not," Gabriel said. "That's a cruel thing to say, Nina. You're in pain. You're confused."

"Am I?"

"Of course you are." He took my other hand, and his voice went smooth and gentle for the lens. "You lost a lot of blood."

I said nothing.

I let him have it.

He lied well, and he looked good doing it, and four million people had watched the video that said otherwise.

"Gabriel," I said. "In your earpiece, before you ran. What did they say?"

For one half second his eyes went to the cameraman, and then to Brooke.

"What? Nothing. Noise. Cross-talk from the truck."

"Nothing."

"I told you, it was chaos."

"One more thing," I said. "Whose idea was the pillar?"

"What pillar?"

"Stage left. Your father texted me to stand there."

He frowned.

"Dad? Probably for the lighting. He's particular about who stands where." He shrugged. "Why?"

Behind him, in the corner, Giacomo's hand went flat against the wall.

"No reason," I said.

"You need rest." Gabriel straightened and gave the camera his best sad smile. "I'll come back tonight. Brooke's going to sit with you for a bit, and I'll go make a statement."

"No," I said.

He blinked.

"Brooke can go home," I said. "She's hurt. A sprain is a lot."

Brooke looked at her sling.

"Rest, Nina," Gabriel said, a little coldly now, and he walked out with the crew behind him.

Brooke lingered at the door.

"If you need anything," she said, "anything at all, I'm here."

She sounded like she meant it, which was the worst part.

Then the door shut.

The nurse switched off the monitor and pulled a small black device out from under my pillow.

"Got the whole thing," she said. "Every word."

I nodded.

My hands were shaking, and I let them.

Giacomo came to the bed.

"You didn't cry," he said.

"I'll do it later."

"Nina." He lowered his voice. "I sent two men to the Falco Media tower this morning, across the street from the Hargrove."

"And?"

"There's a rooftop access door on the thirty-first floor. The lock was opened with a key card, not forced." He looked at me steadily. "The shooter's nest was in your husband's building."

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