Chapter 4 - The Triage
Camille ripped her arm free with a violent, ragged jerk, stumbling back two steps into Dominic’s waiting arms.
"Get this insane woman out of my house!" Camille shrieked, pointing a trembling, manicured finger at Adeline. "Marcus! Escort her off the property right now!"
Marcus, the heavy-set security chief, stepped forward, his right hand moving instinctively toward the concealed holster inside his jacket.
"Don't touch her," a voice growled from the floor.
It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
Nico had dragged his upper body upright, sitting against the base of the console table, his chest heaving, his dark hair falling forward over his brow. His eyes were fixed on Marcus with an intensity so lethal that the security chief froze mid-stride, his hand hovering over his lapel.
"Nico, she assaulted me!" Camille cried out.
"Dominic," Nico said, ignoring his fiancée entirely, his voice cold as arctic ice. "Right the chair."
Dominic hesitated for a beat, looking at Camille, then at Marcus, before stepping forward and lifting the carbon-fiber wheelchair back onto its four wheels.
Adeline knelt immediately beside Nico. She didn't offer a dramatic hand of sympathy. She slipped her arm professionally under his left armpit, positioning her hip against his back to provide a stable pivot point.
"On three," she murmured into his ear, her voice steady and entirely focused on the task. "Use the table leg for leverage. Don't use your left shoulder—it took the brunt of the impact."
Nico glanced at her, his jaw set. "One."
"Two," she said.
"Three."
With a powerful, agonizing surge of his upper body, Nico drove his broad shoulders upward, pivoting on Adeline’s braced hip, and settled heavily back into the leather seat of his chair.
He didn't slouch. He didn't lean back. He sat perfectly straight, adjusting the cuffs of his white dress shirt, his breathing deep and measured.
He looked around the foyer.
Thirty guests stood frozen like marble statues. His brother stood beside him, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Camille was trembling with rage, her emerald dress rustling against the tiles.
"The party is over," Nico announced. His voice carried effortlessly into every corner of the grand house. "My guests will excuse us. Marcus, escort everyone to their vehicles."
Nobody argued. Nobody offered polite goodbyes. The syndicate lieutenants and politicians moved toward the heavy oak exit doors with shocking speed, eager to escape the toxic atmosphere suffocating the estate.
Within five minutes, the foyer was empty, save for Nico, Adeline, Dominic, and Camille.
"Nico, this is absurd," Dominic began, stepping forward with his hands in his pockets. "Camille was just stressed about the wedding planning. You can't let a private nurse speak to your future wife like—"
"Leave us, Dominic," Nico commanded, not looking at his brother.
"Nico—"
"Take Camille and leave," Nico repeated, his eyes fixed on the empty marble floor in front of him. "Now."
Camille let out a harsh, bitter laugh, grabbing her leather handbag from the hall table. "You're making a massive mistake, Nico. Look at you! You're choosing a servant over your own family! Let's see how well your shipping lines run when my father pulls his credit guarantees tomorrow morning!"
She turned and stormed out the front doors, the heavy iron hinges slamming shut behind her with a sound like a tomb closing.
Dominic lingered for two seconds, his eyes sweeping over Adeline with a cold, calculating malice, before he followed Camille out into the rainy night.
Silence returned to the foyer.
Adeline stood beside the wheelchair, her hands clasped loosely in front of her scrubs, her heart still hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Nico didn't speak for a long time. He sat staring at the white Carrara tiles where he had laid moments ago.
"You should have let her hit me," he said quietly, his voice dangerously smooth.
Adeline looked at him. "Why? So your brother could record it on his phone and use it in a competency hearing tomorrow?"
Nico’s head snapped up, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "What did you say?"
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Adeline took a slow, deep breath. The time for hiding behind professional boundaries was over. She had crossed the river the moment she grabbed Camille's wrist; there was no going back to being just a nurse now.
"Follow me to the library, Mr. Alfieri," Adeline said softly. "It's time you learned what your family has been feeding you for eight months."
