The next morning, Aurora burst into the hospital room, her face radiating with joy. To her immense delight, the Don was awake, sitting up in his bed .
As Aurora spotted the Don, her heart leapt in her chest, and she couldn't contain her happiness. Without a moment's hesitation, she sprinted towards him, her feet pounding against the floor.
Aurora let out a heartfelt sigh of relief. "Thank God!" she exhaled. The Don, his voice still feeble but carrying a commanding tone, inquired, "Where's Apollo?"
Aurora's eyes widened momentarily at the unexpected question, her surprise evident. "You want to see him now?" she repeated, the question lingering in the air.
Aurora nodded in response to the Don's command. "He's probably at the Dunn roots," she informed him.
The Don's face was stern as he responded, "Tell him I want to see him now." Though his voice was weakened by his illness, the authority in his tone was undeniable.
"Okay," Aurora acquiesced, her words tinged with concern, "but please, get some rest."
The Don's frown deepened, his expression stern. "Now." He barked sharply, the commanding nature of his voice causing a coughing fit.
Aurora swiftly nodded her head in agreement, hurrying away from the room as the Don's coughing echoed behind her.
**********
Apollo gently knocked on the door, pausing briefly to hear the faint "Come in" that followed. He pushed the door open, stepping inside with a hushed tread.
The Don looked up to see Apollo, his gaze lingering on the bruises adorning his face. "Who the hell did you fight with?" the Don asked, his voice gruff but tinged with concern.
Lucus's voice roared through the room, his disappointment palpable. "Are you deaf?" he bellowed, his gaze sharp as he looked Apollo in the eyes.
Apollo's response was nothing but a muttered syllable—"Aaron."
The Don's expression hardened further, his face clouding with irritation. "Mmmm," he hummed, his frustration growing. "Useless!" he exclaimed. "That's what you are. I'm dying here, and all you can think about is some silly fight? How utterly ridiculous."
The Don's words cut through the air, his tone filled with anger and despair. "My days are probably numbered, and you know that. But all you can think about is a worthless fight. You have nothing good to report to me, and you both are unbelievable!"
The Don's gaze turned to Apollo, his eyes filled with disappointment and scorn. "Especially you, Apollo. You disgust me."
"Do something better!" The Don roared, his voice reverberating through the room.
Apollo stood there, shame etched across his face as he offered a meek apology. "I'm sorry," he said, his head bowed in remorse.
"I don't need your apology!" The Don's voice thundered through the room, his irritation reaching its peak.
A tense silence hung in the air, only briefly interrupted by the Don's violent coughing fit. Apollo responded meekly, his voice tinged with determination. "I'll do better," he vowed.
The Don's voice trembled, his confusion mounting due to the advancing Alzheimer's disease. "What the hell happened to your face?" he asked, his gaze fixed on Apollo's bruised and battered visage.
Apollo silently retreated from the room, the weight of his own failure palpable. Disappointment clung to him, casting a shadow over his every thought.