The Marvelous Revenge Of Delia Jones

Chapter 4 - Recovery and Secrets

I woke to the beeping and buzzing of machines. I can barely open my eyes, but I find myself in a large room when I do. Its dark walls and big windows are familiar to me. Like I've been here before.

Only when I open my eyes fully do I recognize that I've been here before. I'm in Francesco's office. He's at his desk doing paperwork, while I'm tucked in a corner nearby that allows me some shade from the beating sunlight.

When I look down at my arm there's an IV. I lift the blanket a bit to find my bullet womb has been bandaged.

"How do you feel?" I look up to see Francesco's smiling face. It's warm and comforting.

"Better," I say

"Good."

"What happened after I passed out?" I ask.

He gets up from his desk and slowly walks over to me. "Guards heard the commotion and took the men down. The ones that survived are being interrogated."

"By the police?"

He kneels beside my bed and gently grabs my hand, "No, Delia."

"Then by who?"

"My men," he says with a stern expression.

"But why? Shouldn't you tell the police?"

He grins, "You have lots to learn, Delia. But I'll tell you later, you need some food and it's almost time for breakfast," he gets up and starts walking back to his desk.

"Breakfast? How long was I out?"

"A few days."

"What day is it?"

"Wednesday."

I let that sink in. It's Wednesday, and the shooting must have happened late Friday night or early Saturday morning.

That means I have lost half a week.

"How behind in my work am I?" I ask.

Francesco sits down in his chair. "You don't have any work," he starts to cross something off on a piece of paper.

I try to sit up. "Wait, what?"

"I'm giving you a promotion."

"A promotion?"

He smiles, "Yes, Delia, I am promoting you."

"To what? Vice Sectary?"

He laughs. "No, you get a different position."

"What is it?"

"I'll tell you later," he continues to cross things out on the paper.

A small knock sounds at the door and a maid comes in rolling an empty wheelchair.

"Where should I put the wheelchair, Mr. Fentocceski?" The maid asks.

He places his pen down and gets up from his desk. "Right by the bed will be fine."

"Yes, sir. Do you need help getting her in?"

"No, I can handle it just fine."

The maid gives a slight nod and leaves the room.

"You hungry?" Francesco asks.

"Very much."

"Then let's get you into the wheelchair and down to breakfast," he gently pulls out my IV and unhooks me from all of the machines. Then he pulls back the blankets and carefully lifts me out of the bed and into the wheelchair.