Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“He was very ill.”
It turns out confidentiality doesn’t matter so much when a man is staring down a gun. “In what way?”
He sighs wearily. “Your grandfather suffered from late-stage lung cancer. Inoperable and too far gone by the time he came to see me. Perhaps if he’d been here sooner… there is no way of telling.”
The coughing. Dammit, I knew there had to be something to it. Alicia barely chokes back a groan.
“But people live with lung cancer all the time, don’t they? It doesn’t mean—”
He shakes his head slowly, his already wrinkled face more deeply lined, thanks to the way it sags. “I’m afraid not. At maximum, he had a month left—but I’m afraid he would have been heavily medicated all the while.”
He sits back in his chair, sighing again. “As it was, he required a rather high dosage of narcotics to simply remain upright, to keep from living in bed.”
My hand is shaking, and the gun along with it. Why is my hand shaking? “He was in that much pain?”
“I’m afraid so. You see, the cancer had already spread to his bones. Before long, he would have been unable to function at all due to the amount of medication it would have taken to keep him out of pain. He would have been unaware of his surroundings. Hallucinating.”
“Jesus,” Alicia whispers. I can’t bring myself to make a sound. He was dying. He had a month to live, and that month would have been spent in excruciating pain. I might not be a doctor, but I know what happens when cancer spreads to a person’s bones. I’ve heard of the pain. No doubt he wouldn’t have wanted to go out that way. He only wanted to be in control of the way things ended. The way he always needed to be in control of every aspect of his life. His family.
“I am going to pull your grandfather’s file,” the doctor explains. He hasn’t taken his eyes off the gun yet, and I can’t say I blame him. “Inside is a letter he instructed me to give you if and when you came to me.” He glances down at one of his drawers, then back up at the gun. “I’m going to open the drawer and pull the file out. I have no weapons here.”
“Do it,” I bark.
He opens the drawer slowly and breaks eye contact only long enough to look down to where the file waits. He places it on the desk—it’s fairly thick—then slides it across. “The letter is inside the folder. It’s sealed in its original envelope.” Yes, an envelope bearing my grandfather’s handwriting, so neat and precise.
“Everything you need to know is in that folder,” the doctor tells me. “X-rays, scans, all of it. He paid me to keep this quiet. If you wish to have the money back—”
“Shut up. This isn’t about the money. Do you think my family can’t afford it?”
“No, of course, that isn’t what I was thinking.”
I stand, and Alicia follows suit. “If I am in any way dissatisfied with this, I will make a return visit. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mr. De Luca.” His voice shakes slightly now, but that could be relief at knowing we’re about to leave.
I don’t acknowledge the assistant on the way out the door. All that matters is getting to the car, so I can read the letter in private. Alicia will be there, but I can’t very well tell her to wait outside.
Still, it’s as if she reads my mind. “Would you rather be alone?”
“No. There’s no need for that.” It’s as if her offer spurs me to action. I open the envelope and withdraw a single folded sheet of paper.
Enzo,
If you’re reading this, the plan was successful. I know you and your temper, and I’m sure you want to know why. I’ve done everything I could over the years to teach you to be the man you need to be to do what needs to be done. This is another one of those lessons. A man deserves to decide how his life ends on his terms, and that’s no one’s business but his own. If he can find a way to benefit his family when it is clear the end is inevitable, so much the better. That is what I’ve had to do. I’ll be damned if I turn into some drooling, semi-conscious thing. I will go the way I want to go, and I will protect my family.
That means arranging for my assassination during your wedding, which will give you the ammunition you need to take down your adversaries. I leave this letter with the doctor prior to boarding the jet for Miami. I am well aware of what awaits and go into it of my own free will.
Now, it’s your turn to do the protecting. I can think of no one better suited to take care of our family. -Grandfather