Chapter 9 - THE LAST DAY I WAS EVER PAID TO TOUCH ENZO MARCHETTI
The title is misleading.
My last day as Enzo’s nurse had happened months earlier.
But the final day I ever touched him professionally came during a hospital evaluation six months after we met.
He collapsed during a corporate compliance deposition.
Not dramatic stroke.
Exhaustion.
Autonomic instability related to his injury.
His legal team called an ambulance.
He arrived at my hospital.
Of course.
I was on shift.
When I saw his name on intake board, I stood frozen.
My charge nurse looked.
“You know him?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Long.”
“Conflict?”
“Yes.”
“Then you don’t take him.”
Good.
I did not.
Another nurse handled.
Boundaries are less romantic than running into emergency room and throwing yourself over lover.
Better.
I stayed away until my shift ended.
Then entered as visitor.
Enzo lay in hospital bed furious.
“You work here.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t treat me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Conflict.”
“I almost passed out.”
“You did pass out.”
“Worse.”
I smiled.
“You had excellent nurse.”
“She didn’t insult me once.”
“Quality issue.”
He laughed.
Then winced.
“What happened?”
“Dehydration.”
“Overexertion.”
“Did you skip lunch?”
Silence.
“Enzo.”
“Maybe.”
“Idiot.”
There.
Personal.
Not professional.
He smiled.
“Better.”
We had been dating four months.
Slow.
Two kisses so far.
The first happened on our third date.
He asked.
I said yes.
The second I initiated.
He nearly dropped his cane.
Worth it.
Still, I kept my apartment.
My job.
My money.
Enzo never paid Gabe’s debts.
Never sent rent.
Never replaced my car.
He once tried to send flowers the size of a refrigerator.
I returned them.
He learned to buy grocery-store tulips.
Progress.
The federal case approached resolution.
Carlo had been charged with conspiracy related to Enzo’s crash, medical tampering, financial racketeering, and obstruction.
Rostov faced lending, conspiracy, extortion, and related charges.
Salerno faced medical fraud, conspiracy, obstruction, and assault-related counts tied to tampered treatment.
Sebastian cooperated.
Ugly but useful.
My father’s death remained unresolved criminally because the suspected direct actor was dead and Salerno denied ordering violence.
But government formally acknowledged Dad had been a cooperating forensic analyst targeted during investigation.
We held a second memorial.
Not because first false.
Because now truth included courage none of us knew.
Mom came.
Gabe came.
Enzo stayed at distance until I invited.
He did not turn Dad into connection to himself.
Good.
After memorial, Enzo told me:
“My plea hearing is next month.”
I already knew from news.
“What are you pleading?”
“Racketeering conspiracy.”
“Bribery.”
“Extortion.”
“Financial crimes.”
“Any violence?”
“Agreement includes admitting I authorized intimidation and assaults in furtherance of business.”
My chest tightened.
Specific.
“How many?”
He looked sick.
“More than I want to count.”
“Count anyway.”
His eyes lifted.
“Why?”
“Because people disappear when powerful men summarize them.”
He closed eyes.
“Yes.”
That week he began compiling restitution statements with counsel for individuals identified in his own operations.
Not everyone could be found.
Not every harm monetized.
Still.
He did not ask me to praise.
Good.
Then Carlo’s attorneys made a move.
They released selective documents to press implying I had been Enzo’s romantic partner before employment and that the caregiver job had been fake.
My hospital placed me on paid administrative review for two days because questions arose about professional boundaries.
I was furious.
Not at hospital.
At consequences of Enzo’s surveillance.
The dossier became scandal.
MAFIA BOSS SECRETLY PROFILED NURSE BEFORE HIRING
Accurate.
PRIVATE CAREGIVER OR PLANTED GIRLFRIEND?
False.
I provided employment records.
Dates.
Our first romantic contact happened months after I resigned.
Enzo issued statement:
Ms. Hall did not have a romantic relationship with me while employed as my nurse. I selected her through manipulative and invasive methods before her employment. Responsibility for that conduct is mine. She was not aware of it when she accepted the position.
There.
No image management by blaming me.
My hospital cleared me.
Then Enzo’s board asked him to soften language.
He refused.
Stock dipped.
Good.
Actions have price.
One night after he was discharged from hospital collapse, we sat at my apartment.
He looked around.
“This place is tiny.”
“Leave.”
“I like tiny.”
“Liar.”
“Your couch is hostile.”
“It was free.”
He smiled.
Then:
“I love you.”
I froze.
No orchestra.
No gunshots.
My dishwasher making terrible noise.
“What?”
“I love you.”
He looked terrified.
Good.
“I’m not asking answer.”
Good.
“I just didn’t want plea hearing to happen before I said something because I was afraid you’d think prison made me invent feelings.”
My chest hurt.
“Enzo.”
“Yes.”
“I love you too.”
He stopped breathing.
“But.”
He laughed helplessly.
“Of course.”
“This does not mean I wait if relationship stops being healthy.”
“Yes.”
“It does not mean I move into your house.”
“Yes.”
“It does not mean I testify differently.”
“Yes.”
“It does not mean—”
“Claire.”
“What?”
“I understand.”
I stared.
Then smiled.
“Good.”
He groaned.
I kissed him.
No permission question because I initiated.
His hands stayed at my waist until I pulled closer.
The old Enzo had collected information before asking whether he could enter my life.
The man on my secondhand couch now waited for my body to answer before moving his hands.
Change lived in small things.
Then his phone rang.
Attorney.
He answered.
Listened.
His face became cold.
“What?”
I asked.
“Carlo wants a deal.”
“Good for Carlo.”
“He says he has information about Rostov and my crash.”
“That seems useful.”
“He also says he can prove Dr. Salerno met your father the night he died.”
My heart stopped.
“And?”
“Carlo wants immunity on one of the homicide conspiracies.”
“No.”
Enzo looked.
“That’s prosecutor decision.”
“I know.”
I stood.
“But you do not trade Daniel—wrong story. Dad.”
I corrected myself mentally. My father.
“You do not trade my father’s truth for family convenience.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
His eyes narrowed.
I almost smiled.
The final chapter of my father’s death was about to collide with Enzo’s plea.
May you like
And I had learned enough by then to know the truth might hurt everyone we loved without neatly delivering justice.
We would still tell it.
