Chapter 5
Dr. Bennett arrived within twelve minutes, his leather trauma kit gripped tightly in his hand as two guards escorted him through the sealed nursery doors. The seasoned mob physician took one look at Clara’s pale, shivering form resting on the leather chaise lounge and immediately went to work.
"Her internal sutures are inflamed, Daniel," Dr. Bennett said, his hands moving with surgical precision as he cut away the torn, soiled fabric of her robe. "The physical strain has reopened the secondary muscle wall. She has an active infection, severe dehydration, and her body is going into septic shock. If you had returned six hours later, she would have died of internal hemorrhage."
Daniel stood over the doctor, his hands resting in his trouser pockets, the gold signet ring catching the bright ceiling lights. He did not blink. He did not show panic. He was a stone pillar holding up a collapsing sky.
"Fix her, Robert," Daniel commanded quietly. "Use whatever resources are required. Call the private surgical team from Mount Sinai if you need extra hands. But she survives."
"She will survive, Boss," Bennett promised, plunging an intravenous antibiotic line into Clara’s pale forearm. "I will stabilize the fever first, then repack the incision."
Across the room, Victor was groaning, spitting thick blood onto a linen towel as two Carter soldiers held him pinned against the wall by his shoulders. His jaw was visibly misaligned, swelling to the size of a grapefruit.
"You're making... a fatal mistake, Daniel," Victor slurred through his broken teeth, his eyes burning with desperate, cornered malice. "The Chicago Council... they approved this arrangement. Your mother went to Don Moretti last month. We have backing."
Daniel slowly turned around. He walked across the room, his polished shoes stepping over the torn baby blankets, stopping two inches from Victor’s face.
"You went to Chicago?" Daniel asked softly.
Evelyn stumbled forward, clutching her ruined pearls, trying to sound authoritative despite the bloody swelling on her cheek. "I did what had to be done to preserve our dynasty! That woman is trailer trash! Her father was a deadbeat mechanic who owed gambling debts to our own loan sharks! You married her to spite me! To spite your own father’s memory!"
"I married Clara because she has more loyalty in her fingernail than this entire family possesses in its blood," Daniel replied, his voice dropping into that chilling, measured cadence. "And you went to Chicago. To the very men who tried to car-bomb my father seven years ago."
Victor tried to sneer, but the pain made him wince. "They offered us thirty percent of the northern transport routes, Daniel. All we needed was a legitimate Carter heir under Evelyn’s legal guardianship. Clara was an obstacle. We were going to declare her unfit, have her institutionalized, and raise the boy properly."
"Raise him properly," Daniel murmured, tilting his head. A dark, terrifying smile touched the corner of his lips. "By starving his mother while you ate quail ten feet away?"
May you like
Daniel reached out, his fingers wrapping around Victor’s expensive silk tie. With a single, effortless jerk, he tightened the knot, pulling Victor upward until the older man was forced onto his tiptoes, choking for oxygen.
"You thought Chicago was your shield, Victor," Daniel whispered into his cousin's ear. "You forgot who owns the rail lines between here and Cook County. You forgot who controls the ports."
