My husband left me. My daughter won’t take my calls. The hospital made sure I’d never work in medicine again.”
Victor studied her for a long time. In his world, everything was a transaction—people wanted influence, money, or power. But this woman wanted nothing.
She had risked her life to crash a high-security funeral for a boy she’d never met. “You could have stayed quiet,” he said. “No, I couldn’t,” Clara whispered.
“Not this time. Not another boy… No.”
Before Victor could respond, the door opened. A doctor entered, but it was Luke who changed everything.
The boy opened his eyes. “Luke.” Victor was at the bedside in a heartbeat.
Mary rushed in behind him. “Honey, can you hear me?” Luke’s eyes were glassy, unfocused. His lips moved without sound at first, then a tiny rasp came out.
“Scared…” “What’s scary, sweetheart?” Mary stroked his hair. “You’re safe now.
You’re safe.” But Luke slowly turned his head, searching the room. His gaze passed over his parents, over the doctor, until it landed on Clara standing in the corner.
He lifted a small, trembling hand from the bed and reached toward her. “The lady…” Clara froze. Victor and Mary exchanged a look.
“Luke, honey, that’s just…” Mary started. “Stay,” Luke whispered, his eyes locked on Clara. “Please stay.”
The doctor frowned, checking the monitors. “His vitals are spiking; we need to let him rest.” “No,” Luke’s voice grew stronger.
“I was scared. She stayed. She… she pulled me back.
I was falling into the dark, but she pulled me back.” Victor felt a chill run down his spine. His son had been unconscious when Clara stopped the funeral.
Luke couldn’t have known who she was. He couldn’t have seen her—unless something else was happening. “Clara stays,” Victor said firmly.
He turned to her with a voice full of a silent promise. “You are under my protection now. Whatever you need—food, clothes, a home.
You saved my son’s life. That debt extends to your family as well.” Clara’s eyes filled with tears.
She nodded silently. But as relief filled the room, none of them noticed the security camera in the corner. Or the man watching the feed from another room.
Frank Russo stood in the hospital administrator’s office, a phone to his ear. “She knows about the toxin,” he said quietly. “Yes, I understand.
We’ll take care of it.” He hung up and continued to stare at the screen showing Clara and the Roman family. His hand drifted to the sidearm he wore under his blazer.
He knew that some problems didn’t just go away on their own. The Roman estate felt different when they returned three days later. Luke was still weak, but the doctors had cleared him for home recovery with 24-hour nursing care.
Victor had converted the east wing into a private medical suite with state-of-the-art monitoring and two nurses who had signed ironclad non-disclosure agreements—plus Clara, who refused to leave Luke’s side. She was given a room next door, new clothes, and a salary as his personal caregiver. But the looks Victor’s security team gave her made it clear what they thought of the arrangement.
On the fourth night, Victor called a meeting in his study. Twelve men sat around the mahogany table. His captains, his most trusted advisors—the core of his organization.
Frank Russo sat to his right, as always. Victor poured himself a scotch, offering none to the others. “Gentlemen, I want to thank you for your patience during this difficult time.
My son is alive because of a miracle. But I didn’t call you here to celebrate.” He set the glass down with such force that several men flinched.
“I called you here because someone tried to murder my son.” The room erupted in denials and murmurs of shock. Victor let them talk for exactly ten seconds before slamming his fist on the table.
Silence. “The toxicology report came back today.
Tetrodotoxin. A paralyzing agent that mimics death. It was in Luke’s system for at least six hours before the funeral.
The doctors say another hour in that casket and he would have had permanent brain damage.” Victor’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “Someone in my house poisoned my nine-year-old son.
And expected us to bury him alive.” Dan Miller, one of the senior security leads, leaned forward. “Boss, you think it was an inside job? Who else had access?” Victor’s eyes scanned the room.
“Luke never leaves the estate without a detail. His food is prepared by our staff. His medications are handled by Frank.”
A heavy silence followed. All eyes turned to the COO. Frank’s face remained stoic, but a muscle in his jaw twitched.
“Frank personally oversees Luke’s asthma treatments,” Victor said carefully. “He’s done it for years, ever since the boy was diagnosed. Frank was like an uncle to him.”
“And Frank was the one who tried to stop you from opening that casket,” Dan added, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. Frank’s chair scraped back. “Are you accusing me of something, Dan? I was just trying to spare Victor more pain.”
“Enough,” Victor’s voice cut through the tension. “I’m not here to point fingers without proof. But someone in this organization wanted my son dead.
Maybe to hurt me. Maybe to take over. Maybe for reasons I haven’t uncovered yet.”
He looked at each man in turn. “I want names. Anyone who’s been acting strange.
Anyone with money problems. Anyone who’s been in contact with our competitors.” “What about the homeless woman?”
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