𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞

Chapter Twenty

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Two days after their date, Matthew flew to Italy to visit father Josè who'd been rushed to the hospital due to a mild heart attack, which is what he'd directed his secretary to tell his children before he fell unconscious. He called them his children because that is who they were in every sense of the word except by birth. But it turned out it was almost big enough to maim him.

Matthew sighed when he entered the room, walking to stand on the priest's left as he acknowledged the men already present.

Four men that he grew up with. Three of whom he shared an affinity, and the other a man curving his way through politics, he would most likely end up in the white house.

Raphael, Bruno, and Romano stood on the left except for Gabriel, a US judge seated in a blue plastic chair at his feet, going through father Josè's medical records attached to a wooden clipboard so focused it appeared as if he understood the medical jargon scribbled almost carelessly.

"This is a shitty hospital," Matthew mumbled, holding out his hand for the clipboard; Gabriel placed it on his hand as he stood by the window, saying nothing. Raphael nodded, adding that the priest had refused to be transferred to a better one.

"He says his parishioners come here."

"So," Matt muttered, a furrow appearing on his face as he read the records.

Raphael sat on the seat Gabriel had vacated, his right leg across the ankle, concern marring his face. They loved the man lying in that small hospital bed—asleep, looking small and almost lifeless, yet they had memories of how vital and full of life he had been when they were growing up.

"We can transfer him when he is asleep; what is the worst he could do?" Matthew argued, looking at the men surrounding the bed.

"Except we cannot, " Gabriel turned, rubbing his face like he had no idea what to do. "None of us is his next of kin."

"What the hell do you mean? Who else could it be?" Matthew's eyes were wide with surprise, setting the clipboard on the small table beside the bed. He couldn't make out much of the handwriting except his sugar level, which he noticed was 4.2; he figured that was good.

"Father Mario, " Gabriel confirmed almost in a whisper.

"That shitty little bastard," Bruno hissed, his voice full of spite.

"Can we convince him to allow us to move him?"

"No, we tried. He said Father Josè forbade us to move him."

He had known they would move him; he had made sure none of them had the legal right to decide. Matthew thought he had been selfish. He understood the priest's need to live as an example to his parishioners, but he had an alternative; his followers did not have the wealth this man could tap into, yet he chose to be in a hospital that barely had enough doctors or nurses.

The floor had small cracks, stowing dirt that flew with every breeze that passed through the window. It was shameful that this was the hospital where this great man could feel comfortable or relatively equal to his flock,

They stood in silence, five men of means feeling helpless as if their hands were tied up.

Removing his phone, Matthew called his assistant, Isaac, to find out the best cardiologist in the country and get him his phone number.

"What the hell are you doing?" Gabriel asked, turning to face him, his striking brown eyes fixed intensely on Matthew, a lock of hair falling on his forehead. He looked tired, but so did all of them.