Chapter 4 - The Decision
By noon, two leather suitcases sat open on the bed in Clara’s guest room.
She had packed her clothes, her medical textbooks, and her personal items. Everything was ready. Downstairs, a black town car was waiting to take her to a new apartment in Lincoln Park.
Yet, Clara stood in front of the full-length mirror, staring at her reflection, unable to close the luggage flaps.
A soft knock came at her door.
Arthur stood in the doorway, holding a thick white envelope. His usual stoic expression was gone, replaced by a heavy, troubled shadow.
“The car is ready, Mrs. Rossi,” Arthur said quietly.
“Thank you, Arthur,” she said, her voice barely audible. “And please... call me Clara.”
Arthur stepped inside, placing the white envelope on the nightstand. “That contains the key cards to your new apartment and the legal documentation for your bank trust. Dominic signed everything ten minutes ago.”
Clara looked at the envelope, then at Arthur. “How is he?”
Arthur sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “His fever is rising. The bullet graze wasn't clean—the dock round left carbon residue in the tissue. But he refuses to let the family doctor touch him. He drove everyone out of his office.”
Clara’s medical instincts flared immediately. “He has carbon tracking in the wound?! If that isn't debrided properly, he’ll be septic by midnight!”
“I know,” Arthur said gravely. “But you know how he is. He’s stubborn. And right now... he doesn't care.”
Clara looked at her unpacked suitcases. Then she looked at Arthur. “What aren't you telling me?”
Arthur looked back toward the hallway, ensuring no guards were listening, before turning back to her. “Seven years ago, when Dominic was shot in that alley, his uncle had betrayed the family. Dominic was twenty-three years old, bleeding out in the dark, left for dead by everyone he trusted. When he came back to the estate weeks later, healed and stitched together with that blue thread, he was a different man. He took control of the Rossi syndicate with absolute brutality because he believed the world was entirely made of monsters.”
Arthur met her eyes directly. “For seven years, he kept a small piece of blue nylon suture thread in his vault. He told me once that it was the only proof he had that mercy existed in this city. He didn't force you into this marriage to hurt you, Clara. When he saw your brother’s debt list and saw the name Clara Hayes, he took the debt himself to keep you away from the other loan sharks.”
Clara felt the breath leave her lungs in a sharp gasp. “He knew my name?”
“He knew your family name,” Arthur corrected. “He didn't realize you were the girl from the alley until last night. He thought he was protecting the family of the girl who saved him. But now... now he feels he corrupted the only good thing that ever touched his life by forcing you into a contract.”
Clara’s heart hammered against her ribs. She looked at her open suitcases, then grabbed her trauma kit off the dresser.
“Take those bags back to the closet,” Clara ordered Arthur sharply.
May you like
Arthur blinked. “Mrs. Rossi?”
“I said put them away!” she snapped, tying her hair back into a tight ponytail. “I am a nurse, Arthur. And my patient is being an arrogant, reckless idiot.”
