His greatest love.

Chapter 2.

By the time Giovanni De Luca reached the hospital, the sterile scent of bleach and adrenaline hit him like a wall. His father was already deep in surgery. The moment the elevator doors opened to the surgical floor, he spotted his mother collapsed in a chair, her frame shaking as silent sobs wracked her body.

"Giovanni!" Clarita cried, rising as her son rushed to her, enveloping her in his arms.

"I'm here, Ma. I've got you." His voice was low, steady but his jaw was clenched, fury threatening to rise with every beat of his heart. "Pa's a stubborn old man. He's not going down that easy."

"He won't leave me," she whispered, her voice ragged as she clutched his coat.

"He won't," Gio said, gently rubbing her back in circles the way she used to soothe him as a child. "I already called Liam and Maliah."

Her head shot up. "Will they come?"

"Liam's finishing his mission. He'll be here in two days. Maliah has an exam, but she's booking a flight right after. The family's coming home, Ma."

"Good," Clarita breathed. "I need all of you with me... especially now. We still don't know who did this."

Giovanni nodded, eyes narrowing. "I'll find out. And when I do—"

"Don't," she whispered, cutting him off. "Not here. Not now."

Eight hours passed. Eight excruciating hours of silence and pacing. Security doubled. Matteo arrived with his wife, Nadia, standing beside Gio like a brother would silent, steady, ready to burn the world if needed.

Then, a man in a tailored navy suit approached with a badge clipped to his chest.

"Mr. De Luca?"

Gio's eyes flicked to him, but Matteo stepped forward first.

"Who's asking?" he said coldly.

"I'm Lanwar. CEO of the hospital."

"Do you have news?" Clarita asked, clutching her rosary.

"Not yet," Lanwar replied. "But I need to inform you... under federal law, gunshot wounds must be reported. We've notified the authorities. They're on their way."

The air shifted.

"You what?" Giovanni hissed, stepping forward. "Who the hell told you to do that?!"

"It's protocol," Lanwar replied, trying to remain calm. "We had no choice."

"Son," Clarita said gently, placing her hand on his clenched fist. He stilled. Her touch warm, trembling anchored him.

"They're coming up now," Lanwar said quietly.

Moments later, the elevator dinged. Two men in suits stepped out one of them, tall, thin-lipped, with eyes like icewater.

Detective Santos.

"Well, well," Gio muttered darkly. "If it isn't the bloodhound himself."

"Mr. De Luca," Santos said smoothly. "We heard about the shooting. We're here to help."

Clarita let out a bitter laugh. "You? Help? You couldn't find a murderer if he confessed on live TV."

"We just want to find who's responsible—"

"Or pin it on the wrong person," Nadia snapped. "That's more your style."

"If everyone would just cooperate—" Santos started, pulling out his notepad.

Gio waved him off. "Fine. Ask."

"What happened?"

"My father was giving a speech. Someone shot him."