Chapter 4 - A Monster's Code
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Dr. Julian was a tall, silver-haired man who carried his medical bag with quiet efficiency. He didn't ask questions about the guards outside or the heavy steel locks on the doors.
For thirty minutes, he examined the deep bruising along my ribcage, applied antiseptic ointment to the raw skin on my wrists, and checked the split on my lower lip.
"Three fractured ribs," Dr. Julian noted, typing notes into a secure tablet. "Severe malnutrition, old scar tissue along the upper back, and clear signs of chronic chemical stress."
Marco stood by the window, his back to us, watching the rain strike the glass. "Chemical stress?"
"Traces of long-term sedative use," Dr. Julian explained, closing his bag. "Likely prescribed to keep her docile or appear physically frail. It’s a miracle she hasn't suffered permanent organ damage."
I kept my head down, staring at the white duvet. "She called them my 'daily vitamins.' If I didn't take them, she wouldn't let me leave my room."
The doctor looked at Marco, nodded once, and quietly walked out of the suite.
When the door clicked shut, Marco turned around. He pulled a chair over, setting it across from me, and sat down.
"Your mother borrowed eight hundred thousand dollars from a syndicate broker two years ago to cover a deficit in her charity's accounts," Marco said, his tone matter-of-fact. "When the interest doubled, she came to me to consolidate the debt."
"Why would she come to you?" I asked softly.
"Because she thought my reputation would cover her tracks," Marco answered. "She promised me two million dollars by the end of the month. When I asked where the funds were coming from, she offered me the payout from your life insurance policy. All I had to do was make sure your body was found in a canal."
A shudder ran through my shoulders, but no tears came. I had cried all my tears years ago in a dark closet in Lake Forest.
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"Why didn't you do it?" I looked up, meeting his gaze. "You're Marco Duca. Everyone says you don't spare anyone."
"I don't spare my enemies," Marco said, leaning forward, his dark eyes fierce and clear. "And I don't execute innocent women for a socialite's pocket change. Your mother’s debt belongs to your mother. Not you."
