Mafia Bloodlines

Chapter 35

Ambrose's pov

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and the faint, lingering scent of illness. I had spent the last three days navigating through different hospitals in Brazil, following every whisper, every lead, trying to find what I needed. Desperation made me relentless. Agape needed a heart, and I had promised to find her one. That promise had led me here.

As I walked down the hallway, my eyes landed on a doctor speaking softly to a nurse. I caught the name I had heard in passing from another physician: Giermo Padea. A recent accident. A man whose body had betrayed him.

I approached, my voice steady despite the storm in my chest. “Doctor, excuse me. I couldn’t help but overhear—Giermo Padea, is he a patient here?”

The doctor, a man with tired eyes and graying hair, studied me for a moment. Then, with a nod, he said, “Yes. He was in a motorcycle accident last month. Complete quadriplegia. He’s… requested euthanasia.”

My breath is still for a second.
“He doesn’t want to live as a quadriplegic?”

“No,” the doctor said quietly. “He was an athlete. A man full of life. He said this existence is not what he wants for himself.” The doctor hesitated. “We’re still going through the ethical processes, but in Brazil, euthanasia is not legal. He made it clear that if there were a way, he would take it.”

A name. A possibility. My heart pounded.

“Can I see him?”

The doctor hesitated but, after a long sigh, nodded. “I’ll take you to him.”

---

Giermo Padea was a shadow of the man he used to be.

His body lay still against the stark white hospital sheets, only his head able to move slightly. He had the look of someone who had already made peace with his fate. When his eyes landed on me, they flickered with curiosity, then dull acceptance.

“You’re not a doctor,” he said. His voice was rough, hollow.

“No,” I admitted, pulling a chair beside his bed. “I came to see you because I heard your story. I think you and I might be able to help each other.”

A humorless laugh left his lips. “Help? There is no help for me.”

I didn’t argue. Instead, I leaned forward. “ I will give you wgat you want which is to die peacefully. But there might be a way for your life to mean something… even after it’s over.”

His eyes sharpened. “Go on.”

So I told him. I told him about Agape, about the little girl whose life was slipping away. I told him about my promise, about how I had searched endlessly for a heart that could save her.

He said quietly. “I want to live. But not like this. This isn’t my life. This isn’t me. ”

I let the silence sit between us.

Then, after a long moment, he exhaled. “You’re asking for my heart. You will end my misey after?”

“Yes.”

Giermo closed his eyes. I could see the war happening within him. The choice. The finality. Then, when he opened them again, he said, “If I could have chosen how my life ended, I would have wanted it to mean something.”

He paused.

“If I do this, I want you to remember my name.”

“I will,” I promised.

---

The process was complicated, but I made it happen. I had taken Giermo to my house where the transplant was going to happen and I would fulfill his wish.