Chapter 4 - The Secret Experiment
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For the next two hours, the penthouse became a secret laboratory.
Lena fetched fresh, scalding hot towels from the warming drawer. She knelt beside Dante’s wheelchair, placing them precisely where he directed.
“Here?” she asked softly, laying a fresh towel across his left knee.
Dante closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in deep concentration. The silence stretched until the only sound was the ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the corner.
“Nothing,” he grunted in frustration.
“It’s okay,” Lena said gently. “We’ll try higher up.”
She moved the towel back to his mid-thigh. She didn't treat him like a fragile, broken thing, nor did she treat him like a terrifying mafia boss. She treated him like a man trying to solve a puzzle.
Suddenly, Dante gasped. His eyes snapped open.
“There,” he whispered. “It’s like... pins and needles. It burns.”
Lena smiled, a genuine, bright expression that made Dante’s heart give a strange, unfamiliar jolt.
“That’s blood flow,” Lena said. “That’s nerve activity.”
“Seven years,” Dante muttered, staring at his legs. “Seven years in this chair. I accepted it. I rebuilt my entire empire around my inability to walk. If I was misdiagnosed...”
“Or if you were intentionally blocked,” Lena offered quietly, voicing the terrifying thought that had been hanging in the room.
Dante looked at her, his eyes narrowing. She was smart. Smarter than she let on. In his world, a paralyzed king was a vulnerable king. Whoever planted the bomb on his yacht seven years ago had failed to kill him, but they had succeeded in grounding him. If someone had been paying his doctors to ensure he never recovered, it meant the traitor was still inside his inner circle.
“We need outside medical help,” Dante said finally. “Someone not on the syndicate payroll.”
“I know a guy,” Lena said hesitantly. “He’s a retired physical therapist. He runs a free clinic in my neighborhood. He treats people who can't afford questions. He’s discreet.”
Dante studied her face. He was trusting his life to a woman he barely knew, simply because she was the only one who hadn't lied to him tonight.
“Bring him here tomorrow night,” Dante ordered. “Use the freight elevator. Make sure no one sees him.”
Lena nodded, standing up to gather the damp towels.
“And Lena?” Dante called out as she reached the door.
May you like
She turned back.
“Burn that uniform,” Dante said softly, his eyes tracing the curve of her waist. “You work for me now. You wear whatever makes you comfortable.”
