Chapter 3 - SECRETS IN THE MARROW
By midnight, the storm outside had evolved into a violent tempest, shaking the heavy windowpanes of the master suite. I had been on my feet for six hours, cycling between flushing the wound with saline, packing it with sterile gauze, and aggressively managing Dominic’s soaring fever. Leo had quietly entered twice, bringing fresh ice and a grim expression, but he asked no questions.
When Dominic finally woke, the room was dimly lit by a single bedside lamp. I was sitting in a velvet armchair, updating his chart.
"You're still here," he murmured. His voice was less hostile, stripped bare by exhaustion.
"I told you I wasn't leaving," I said, setting the clipboard down. I poured a glass of ice water and held it to his lips. He hesitated, pride warring with thirst, before he finally drank.
"You're reckless, Nora Hayes," he said, reading my name off the visitor badge I hadn't bothered to remove from my scrubs. "Or just stupid."
"I prefer financially motivated." I sat back, observing his color. The pale, waxy look was fading. "The bullet grazed your collarbone, but the infection was the real killer. It wasn't just dirty brass. Someone tampered with the ammunition. It looked like necrotic tissue rot. Someone wanted you to suffer before you died."
A dark shadow passed over Dominic’s face. The glacial blue of his eyes turned hard and hollow. "My brother, Lorenzo. He always did appreciate theatricality."
The admission hung in the air, heavy with the weight of a family secret that I instantly knew I wasn't supposed to hear. In the underworld, blood meant loyalty, but it also meant the deepest betrayals. Lorenzo hadn't just tried to kill the boss of the Rossi syndicate; he had tried to slaughter his own flesh and blood to seize the throne.
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"I'm a nurse, Mr. Rossi," I said quietly. "I don't care about your family politics. I just care about keeping your heart beating."
Dominic looked at me, a genuine spark of curiosity cutting through his pain. "We'll see about that."
