No, floating beside him.
This was a private hospital controlled by the Morano family.
The corridor was eerily quiet.
The overhead incandescent lights emitted a faint hum, like some kind of dying whisper.
Hidden cameras were installed in the corners.
Two men in black stood at the end of the corridor, their suits open, the butts of guns gleaming at their waists.
This wasn't a hospital.
It was a place the Mafia used for dealing with things that "couldn't be seen in the light of day."
And Dante sat on a bench.
Dante Valente
He remained calm and composed, as if nothing had happened.
Seraphine Morano leaned on his shoulder.
She was pale, her breathing weak, like a wounded animal.
But her hand gripped his clothes tightly.
That dependence stung my eyes.
I died in the rain.
She lay in his arms.
Then, Dante's phone rang.
A name appeared on the screen.
Donna Lucia.
The true head of the Valente family.
The call connected.
"Adriana hasn't returned to the manor?"
Her voice was calm, yet carried a commanding pressure.
Dante frowned, his tone clearly impatient.
"She's throwing a tantrum."
"I'm with Seraphine at the hospital."
"She did it on purpose."
He said this without even a pause.