The doctor smiled. "I didn't expect to be treating you today. I wasn't even aware you had my number. How did you get it?"
"No problem," Matteo said with a smile. "I asked someone I knew to give me the best doctor in the city some time ago. So, when I needed help, your name came up, and I just contacted you randomly."
The doctor nodded. "I see."
Matteo gave a small bow of apology. "Sorry, sir. I hope I'm not bothering you with these questions."
"No, not at all," the doctor said, shaking his head. "You're not bothering me."
Matteo sat down on the sofa, and the doctor stood up. "Can I come over and check your injury? I need to see if it's infected."
"Okay, come over," Matteo agreed, gesturing to the space beside him.
The doctor leaned in, inspecting the wound closely. "You're very lucky. If this hadn't been treated soon, it could have turned into an infection. It looks like you were sliced by a knife or something sharp. Am I correct?"
Matteo nodded. "You're right.
"I'm going to give you some medication to take while you wait," the doctor said as he tended to Matteo's wound. "Once I'm done, if there's no problem, can I show you something?"
Matteo nodded. "You can go ahead, show me."
The doctor gave Matteo an injection to numb the pain, then began to work with the first aid kit. Carefully, he stitched up Matteo's open wound. When the doctor finished, Matteo handed him a large sum of money, but the doctor refused.
"No, I can't accept this," the doctor said. "You've done so much for the community. Even though you're a ruthless mafia boss, you've donated to build schools, hospitals, and helped the orphans. People don't even know what you do for a living."
Matteo insisted, "It's not about what I've done for the community. I have money, and I want to give it to you. I called you, and you came. You treated my bodyguards and took care of my injuries. Thank you for that."
The doctor, bowing his head respectfully, finally accepted the money. "I'm honored to hear those words. Thank you." He pocketed the money and walked away.
Turning to his bodyguard, Matteo raised an eyebrow. "You're still wearing your suit. Why?"
The bodyguard hesitated. "Boss, I don't have any other clothes to wear. Since I came, you haven't given me any."
Matteo sighed. "Ah, I forgot. Come with me to my room. I'll give you some of my clothes."
The bodyguard followed Matteo to his room, where Matteo gave him a change of clothes and slippers. The bodyguard thanked him and went to his room to change.
Feeling tired and a bit hungry, Matteo realized he hadn't eaten all day. He removed his singlet and grabbed a set of clothes for himself, deciding he'd go out to buy groceries. He wasn't in the mood for anything complicated, so he headed to the store. He bought spaghetti, onions, and all the ingredients needed for a simple pasta dish—something he knew how to make well.
As an Italian, Matteo had learned to cook during his time in the mafia, and making spaghetti was something he found comfort in. After all the chaos, it was the one thing that always seemed to calm him down.
As Matteo made his payment at the grocery store and walked out, he overheard two people discussing something. He didn't pay attention at first, but then he caught them saying, "Mario, who is the head of the Gambino family." He realized they were talking about Mario and decided to pause for a moment to listen.
"It looks like the Gambino family is cooked. Some group or gang beat them and killed some of their men. I wonder what they did," one of the men said.
Matteo turned and looked at them. He saw they were also reading a newspaper.
"Hey, excuse me, can I see that newspaper?" Matteo asked.
He looked at it and was shocked. People already knew about the incident—so fast. It had just happened last night, and it was already in the newspaper by the afternoon. He wondered how information could spread faster than a burning bush.