Page 19 of Sins of Sorrow


Font Size:

I’m at a loss for words. And it seems like he is too, because before I can think of an appropriate response,he shakes his head, runs his hand through his hair again, and then walks away.

Silently, I watch him leave, following the same path he came.

I think about calling out to him. Chasing after him. Asking him to stay.

But for what?

It doesn’t matter that I’m still just as interested in learning more about him as I was when we were younger. It makes no difference that we’re adults and should be free to make our own choices. Or that his words were truthful and honest, and I wanted more of them.

My curiosity about him doesn't matter.

The attraction I’m feeling is a moot point.

Because at the end of the day, I’m a Paladino, and he’s a Lucchetti, and I’m confident if my father were to find out about the conflict I’m feeling about a man I’ve been raised to hate, he’d disown me.

And if my father didn’t disown me, I have no doubts my brother would find a way tokillme.

Chapter 7

Sly

The door slams closed behind me, rattling on its hinges as I enter my dark apartment. Tugging at the buttons on my black dress shirt, the lights above me flicker to life as I walk through the open concept, the motion sensors doing almost too good of a job.

It's jarring, getting used to a new home. New sounds, the layout. What few personal belongings I moved out of storage hardly made a dent, most still sitting in the cardboard boxes I haven’t bothered to unpack.

This space is too big for my liking, but I didn’t have time to ask Mamma to tour it prior to digitally signing the lease. At almost three-thousand square feet, the four bedroom, four and a half bathroom luxury apartment is ostentatious and everything I don’t desire in a home.

Cold.

Empty.

Outrageously modern and state-of-the-art.

But I recognize the need to maintain appearances, especially when behind closed doors what I will be doing with my time is less than ethical.

The Kenna was the perfect choice in buildings. Being a firm believer in everything happens for a reason, I jumped at the opportunity when I saw an availability. This building rarely had vacancies.

It’s also walking distance from the other space I rent.

Four blocks away, adjacent to one of the Upper East Side’s most popular markets, lies a descending staircase to an unmarked door, taking you deep beneath the ground.

Early in my European travels, I had the realization that not all were privileged to afford healthcare. I knew this—I was not naïve to it prior, butseeingit…thinkingabout it…so many are plagued with hardships.

Hardships no family should struggle through. Access to medical care shouldn’t be considered aluxury.

We are all humans.

The only thing that makes us different from one another is wealth.

It’s why I began offering my knowledge—myservices—to those in need.

I’ve spent years in the hospital with Papà—practically from the time I could toddle down the hallways—and in college, studying. My surname gives me privilege in Papà’s hospital, both here in New York and in Italy, where I have access to medications many cannot afford.

During my years in Europe, through unofficialhouse calls and meetings in less than desirable places, I helped many patients. And I will continue to help.

Returning to the States and entering a residency program held no interest for me, but this—this is something I can be proud of. Something I can do with my knowledge for the good of others.

Illegal, yes.