Chapter 7
The silence in the private suite was absolute, broken only by the pathetic, wet groans of Grant Mercer bleeding among the splintered remains of the book display. The bright, cinematic lighting cast stark, unforgiving shadows over the ruined corner of the room.
June Harper’s heart hammered against her ribs, but her mind was remarkably clear. She had seen exactly what caused Rocco’s initial, terrifying spasm, and she knew exactly how the traitors in the room had facilitated it.
Ignoring the dangerous, electric tension radiating from the Mafia Boss in the wheelchair, June turned on her modest flats and dropped to her hands and knees. She crawled quickly across the pristine marble floor, reaching her arm deep beneath the heavy wooden base of the low medication cabinet.
Her fingers brushed against smooth, cylindrical plastic.
"What is she doing?" Lucia demanded, her voice shrill and trembling with sudden panic. "Edwin, get her out of here! Now!"
June grabbed the object and pulled her arm free. She stood up, turning back to face the room. In her hand, she held the small, amber prescription bottle that Lucia had maliciously kicked away during Rocco’s medical crisis.
June held the bottle up so the bright natural light illuminated the orange plastic. She shook it gently. The heavy, unmistakable rattling sound of dozens of pills echoed through the quiet suite.
"It is still nearly full," June announced, her American accent ringing with fierce, undeniable accusation. She looked directly at Edwin Cole, the senior steward responsible for Rocco's daily care. "Mr. Cole. You told me earlier today that Mr. Santoro had already taken his morning and afternoon doses. But this bottle is completely full. He hasn't been given his medication in days."
Edwin Cole froze. His lined face turned the color of ash. He looked from the full bottle in the maid's hand to the terrifying, cold eyes of his Boss.
"I... I swear, Boss," Edwin stammered, his formal house-management suit suddenly looking far too large for his shrinking frame. "Lucia took over the administration of the pills last week. She said she wanted to handle your care personally. She told me the doses were being administered properly!"
Lucia’s aristocratic facade completely shattered. The realization that her systematic poisoning and withholding of crucial medication was now exposed to the entire room drove her into a blind, desperate frenzy.
"Give me that, you stupid little bitch!" Lucia shrieked.
Without a shred of elegance, Lucia lunged forward. Her diamond heels clattered aggressively against the floorboards as she threw herself toward June, reaching with manicured claws to snatch the medication bottle and destroy the evidence of her treason.
Rocco’s reaction was instantaneous.
He reached out from his wheelchair, his massive, tattooed hand moving with blinding speed. He caught Lucia’s wrist mid-lunge, his fingers clamping down on her fragile bones with the crushing force of a steel trap.
Lucia gasped in agony, her forward momentum halted instantly.
With a brutal, effortless twist of his powerful arm, Rocco tore her entirely away from the young caretaker. He used her own momentum to spin her around, sending her flying violently backward across the room.
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Lucia crashed hard onto the padded leather therapy bench. She bounced once before collapsing into an undignified, terrified heap, her diamond jewelry rattling against the wood.
No dialogue was spoken during the physical interception. The sheer, overwhelming masculine authority of the Boss silenced any protest. Rocco extended his open palm toward June, his cold eyes demanding the evidence. June quickly stepped forward and placed the full amber bottle into his waiting hand. The truth of his prolonged suffering was finally in his grasp.
