Chapter 6 - THE SECOND SURGERY
The news of Victor Marcone’s death hit Elena like a physical blow.
She stood in the freezing rain, her arm wrapped tightly around Mateo, staring at Sophia. “No,” Elena whispered, shaking her head. “No, I stabilized him. He was talking. He sent you here.”
“His heart gave out,” Sophia said, her voice entirely hollow. The formidable enforcer suddenly looked like a grieving daughter standing in a dark alley. “Adrian said the stress of the attack caused a massive rupture. Dr. Santos, the fake surgeon... Marco’s man... he tried to operate when Victor crashed, but it was too late.”
Agent Vance, who had been listening intently, stepped forward. Her sharp eyes narrowed. “Dr. Santos? The man Marco hired to kill your father?”
“Adrian said Santos claimed he panicked,” Sophia replied, her knuckles turning white on the motorcycle handlebars. “Santos said Marco was unconscious, the SWAT team was arrested, and he was the only surgeon in the room when my father’s heart ruptured. He said he tried to save him to get a plea deal.”
Answer One, Open Two. The logic seemed sound on the surface. A cornered assassin trying to save a billionaire to buy his own freedom. But Elena felt a cold, terrifying certainty creeping up her spine.
“Agent Vance,” Elena said urgently, stepping away from Mateo. “When I left the room, Victor was stable. Weak, but stable. And Santos was pinned to the MRI machine. How did he get out?”
Vance’s radio crackled before she could answer. It was her partner at the hospital.
“Vance, you need to get back here,” the agent’s voice was tense. “Victor Marcone is dead. But that’s not all. The suspect, Marco Bellini... he’s dead too.”
Sophia whipped her head around. “What?”
“Bellini never woke up from the blow to the head,” the agent continued over the radio. “But the autopsy is going to show he was suffocated. Someone pinched his IV line and smothered him with a pillow while the room was secured.”
Elena’s blood ran cold.
If Marco was dead, the mastermind of the coup was gone. If Victor was dead, the empire needed a new leader.
“Adrian,” Sophia whispered, the horrifying realization dawning in her eyes.
“Your brother?” Vance asked, her hand resting on her holster.
“Adrian always hated my father’s restraint,” Sophia said, her voice hardening, the grief immediately transforming into a cold, terrifying rage. “He thought my father was weak for wanting to legitimize the business. Marco was the muscle behind the coup, but Adrian... Adrian is the heir. He inherits everything.”
“Adrian let Santos out of the MRI room,” Elena deduced, the pieces violently snapping together. “He told Santos to finish the job on his father. And then Adrian killed Marco to silence the only man who knew they were working together.”
The coup hadn't failed. It had simply evolved. Adrian had used Marco’s betrayal as the perfect cover to execute his own.
“We have to get back to the hospital,” Vance ordered. “If Adrian is cleaning house, Patricia Lawson is next. She’s the only one left who knows about the forged medical logs.”
They raced back to St. Augustine Medical Center, sirens screaming through the empty, rain-slicked streets. Sophia rode her motorcycle ahead of the SUV, tearing through red lights like a demon.
When they arrived, the hospital was surrounded by police cruisers and federal agents.
They ran up to the cardiac floor. Room 1208 was a crime scene. Yellow tape stretched across the door. Inside, Victor’s body was covered with a white sheet. Marco’s body was being loaded onto a gurney in the adjacent room.
Adrian Marcone was standing in the hallway, surrounded by expensive lawyers and a few loyal bodyguards. He was playing the part of the devastated son perfectly, holding a bloodstained handkerchief, his eyes red from crying.
Sophia walked straight up to him.
Adrian looked up, feigning surprise. “Sophia. You came back.”
Before he could say another word, Sophia’s fist lashed out. She struck him squarely in the jaw with a sickening crack. Adrian stumbled backward, crashing into a medical cart, blood instantly pouring from his mouth.
His bodyguards moved to intervene, but Agent Vance and her men immediately drew their weapons, pinning them against the wall.
“You killed him,” Sophia snarled, standing over her brother, her eyes burning with absolute hatred. “You used Marco’s mess to kill our father.”
Adrian wiped the blood from his mouth, a chilling, triumphant smirk breaking through his performance. He looked at Sophia, then at Elena and Vance.
“You’re hysterical, Sophia,” Adrian said, his voice smooth and loud enough for the police officers in the hallway to hear. “My father died of a heart attack. Marco tried to kill him, and Marco’s own man, Dr. Santos, confessed to smothering Marco to try and take over the operation. Santos is in federal custody right now, writing a full confession.”
Elena stared at him. Adrian had bought Santos. He had promised the assassin a fortune and top-tier legal protection to take the fall for Marco’s murder.
“You won't get away with this,” Vance said, stepping forward. “I’m tearing this hospital apart. I will find the evidence.”
Adrian adjusted his suit jacket, entirely unbothered. “Find what? The forged logs? Patricia Lawson, the head nurse who caused all this trouble, realized the guilt of what she’d done. She threw herself off the hospital roof ten minutes ago. A tragic suicide.”
Elena gasped, covering her mouth. Patricia was dead.
Adrian had tied up every single loose end in less than an hour. He was the undisputed head of the Marcone empire, and there wasn't a single shred of physical evidence linking him to the murders.
Adrian looked directly at Elena. His smile faded, replaced by a cold, deadly promise.
“You did a brave thing tonight, Miss Morales,” Adrian said softly, stepping uncomfortably close to her. “But brave people rarely live long in Chicago. I suggest you take your little brother and go back to Guatemala. Because if you’re still in this city tomorrow night... I will finish what Marco started.”
Adrian turned and walked away, flanked by his lawyers, leaving Elena, Sophia, and Vance standing powerless in the hallway.
“He won,” Vance whispered in frustration, holstering her weapon. “He has the money, the power, and a perfect scapegoat in Santos. We have nothing.”
Elena looked at the white sheet covering Victor Marcone’s body. She thought of the man who had traded his empire’s most lethal weapon to save her teenage brother. She thought of Patricia, pushed off a roof to protect a monster.
Elena reached into her scrub pocket. Her fingers brushed against the empty heparin vial, but they also brushed against something else.
The scrap of paper she had folded behind the housekeeping desk. The note she had slipped under Victor’s phone.
Make them check it before surgery.
Elena remembered Victor’s face when she walked back into the room. He hadn't just read the note. He had moved it.
“Agent Vance,” Elena said slowly, her heart beginning to pound with a desperate, wild hope. “Before the attack... when I warned Victor about the heparin... he knew someone was trying to kill him. And Victor Marcone wasn't a man who left things to chance.”
May you like
Sophia looked up, her eyes narrowing. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” Elena breathed, looking at the dead billionaire, “Victor knew he might not survive the night. And I think he left us an insurance policy.”
