Before the Fall

When we landed on the helipad of St. Joseph Hospital, the brief truce we’d shared in the air dissolved the second our feet touched concrete. *We slipped right back into our usual dynamic: me, the unwanted assistant; him, the man who tolerated no one he couldn’t control.*
Three doctors waited at the edge of the helipad. Their coats fluttered in the wind like flags announcing the arrival of something important. Of course they did. Everywhere Anton went, doors opened, spines straightened, and people performed gratitude like a ritual.
The doctor in the middle stepped forward.
“Welcome to our hospital, Mr. Alonzo. It’s an honor to have you.”
Anton didn’t even slow down. He brushed past them, the way someone would pass a street advertisement—seen, acknowledged, irrelevant. The doctors scrambled after him, calling the elevator, clearing the path, trying to stay useful.
Inside the elevator, the noise faded and Dr. Payne tried again.
“Hello again, Mr. Alonzo. I’m Dr. Jacob Payne, head consultant and hospital manager.”
“Mm.”
Not even a real word. Classic Anton.
He hated filler talk—unless he was the one using it as a weapon.
“First of all,” Dr. Payne continued, “we truly appreciate your support and investment in our hospital. And second, we’ve taken great care of your—”
Anton’s head snapped around.
Not a glare.
A warning.
Sharp, cold, calculated.
The kind of look that doesn’t tell a man to stop—it tells him there are consequences for not stopping.
Dr. Payne’s voice died instantly. Whatever he’d been about to say evaporated from the air like it had never existed.
And that’s what rattled me.
Anton didn’t get angry at praise. He tolerated it the way a lion tolerates birds singing near its cage—annoying, but harmless. For him to shut down a sentence so violently… it meant something.
Something he didn’t want me to hear.
Before I could process that thought, the elevator doors opened on floor 3.
We walked down the corridor I’d memorized in the past week. My stomach tightened the way it always did when I reached that door.
Inside, Dad was sitting half-upright. His eyes widened when he saw me.
“Oh, honey! What are you doing here?” My father’s surprised voice made me step away from Mr. Alonzo’s side and move to him. I hugged him gently, careful not to hurt him or touch anything that might cause pain. He hugged me back and pressed a small kiss to my cheek.
“Dad, this is Mr. Alonzo. He’s my manager and CEO of Alonzo Company.”
Mr. Alonzo took a deliberate step forward and extended his hand to my father. My father shook it warmly.
“It’s an honor to meet you. Thank you for coming all the way down here,” he said.
“The honor is mine. I hope you’re feeling better, sir.”
Sir? Mr. Alonzo just said *sir*? Was I dreaming? This felt surreal. I blinked several times, staring at him in disbelief. Anton, as always, ignored my astonishment and continued speaking to my father.
“I’m feeling much better, thank you,” my father replied. “Would you like to sit down for a moment?”
“No, thank you. I shouldn’t tire you, and I need to get going.” Anton’s subtle nod toward the waiting doctors signaled them to leave. Like obedient puppies, the welcoming committee slipped out quietly, waiting just outside the door. Even though I had witnessed his influence countless times, it never ceased to amaze me how effortlessly he could guide people, like a shepherd with his flock.
He turned to my father one last time, giving a small nod, and then addressed me.
“Ms. Wonderland.” His salute was impossibly respectful, almost theatrical, before he exited the room.
I stayed behind, stunned. When I looked at my father, I realized he wasn’t any better off emotionally than I was.
“He’s a charming man,” he said softly.
“He is,” I agreed. He turned to me, a faint grin on his lips.
“Is he?”
“Oh, come on, Dad. You just barely survived a life-threatening situation and still have the nerve to mock me?”
The words hit harder than I intended. I immediately regretted saying them. A shadow fell over my father’s eyes, and his gaze turned distant.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, honey. I’m sorry, for letting you go through this nightmare. It’s all my fault.”
“No, Dad. How could you know? We were planning to pay everything according to the original plan, but that loan shark ruined everything by selling your contract to that mafia don.”
He nodded silently, staring out the window, troubled.
“What do you think, Dad?” I asked.
“There’s something fishy here that I can’t quite put my finger on, Alice.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mafia dons don’t mess with pocket change. This amount of money is insignificant for them. I can’t understand what they hope to gain from this deal.”
He was right. Even my brief encounter with Don Virelli had suggested that this was far from a simple debt issue. But I couldn’t let my father know I’d met him—he had enough to worry about already.
“Maybe we should go to the police, Dad?”
“No, honey. These people are dangerous. Not even the police can protect us from men like them. We need to pay the debt as quickly as possible. How are we going about gathering the money? Your mother said you were trying to sell the house. How’s that going?”
I looked down at my hands, unable to meet his eyes while lying.
“It’s going okay. There are some bidders. We should be able to sell it soon, Dad. Don’t worry.”
“I’m sorry to put you in this position, darling. You deserve a better father—”
He began to sob. I opened my mouth to reassure him, but at that moment, my mother arrived.
“What’s all the fuss in the corridor? Is there a celebrity or something?”
Her eyes fell on my father’s wet cheeks and my strained expression. She immediately fell silent.
We all stood up and packed my dad’s things. Within half an hour, the hospital had arranged a special ambulance for us. Since my dad’s condition was still fragile, transferring him via ambulance was safer, so we accepted immediately. And they didn’t even charge us. We knew this was the effect of Mr. Alonzo’s visit, even though we didn’t even notice when or how he left.
Once we got home and tucked my dad safely into bed, and after my sisters went to sleep, Mom and I sat down at the kitchen table to have the conversation we had avoided all week.
“How are we doing so far, Alice?” Mom asked.
“Not great. I only managed to gather $100,000. We’re still short $400,000.”
Mom nodded heavily, tears starting to fall without her even noticing. We sat there in silence. I let her pour out her fear and waited until she could speak again. Between sobs, she asked,
“Do we even have a chance to find this money?”
“Of course we do, Mom! Please don’t despair. We still have one week. *In that time, we might be able to sell either the house or the car to cover the rest.*” I said, forcing a positivity I didn’t feel. Truthfully, it was a lie. There was almost no chance the house would sell in time, and even if we sold the car, it wouldn’t fetch more than $20,000. Selling Mom’s jewelry and my designer dress and bag (which were now up for sale) still wouldn’t cover everything. But I hoped we could gain some leverage to bargain for more time.
“Oh, Alice, please stop lying to me. I’m your mom, not the other way around, okay?”
“I know, I’m sorry. But I wasn’t entirely lying. If we can sell the car at least, I’ll approach the mafia and ask for more time. We might end up in more debt, but at least we’d have some breathing room. It’s not perfect, but it’s a plan.”
Mom stood, crossed the table, and hugged me.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Me too, Mom.”
We stayed there, holding each other for a while longer. When we finally separated, I said,
“Mom, just don’t let anyone know this was for Rachel’s tuition, okay?”
“Okay,” she said.
We sat in silence for another hour until exhaustion finally overtook us. When we went to bed, sleep came as a restless, dreamless haze. I knew the days ahead wouldn’t be any easier.