Chapter 3 - The Price of Healing
The fallout from the engagement party hit the Alfieri estate like a tidal wave by dawn. Camille had packed her bags before sunrise, fleeing the estate in a fury of designer luggage and screaming threats about her father’s legal retaliation. By noon, two of the family’s major shipping logistics partners had mysteriously pulled out of their contracts, signaling the opening salvo of corporate and criminal warfare.
Inside the private medical wing, Adeline was changing Nico’s physical therapy routine. She forced him through rigorous upper-body resistance bands, her hands steady as she guided his movements.
“Stop,” Nico hissed, dropping the band as a spasm of pain shot through his lower back. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “My legs aren’t responding. It’s useless.”
“Your legs are recovering from severe spinal contusions, not magic,” Adeline snapped back, showing zero intimidation. She handed him a towel of ice water. “You spent eight months wallowing in self-pity while your uncle and your ex-fiancée plotted to turn your bloodstream into a chemical wasteland. If you want to take your empire back, you need strength, not a pity party.”
Nico wiped the sweat from his brow, glaring up at her. “You have a remarkable way of motivating people, nurse. Most people cower when I raise my voice.”
“Most people are afraid of the Alfieri name,” Adeline replied, adjusting the monitor settings. “I’m afraid of my brother Wes dying because I couldn't afford his heart surgery. Compared to that, a grumpy mafia boss in a wheelchair is just an administrative annoyance.”
Nico paused, lowering the towel. For the first time, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the worn cuffs of her scrubs, and the way she constantly checked her phone for hospital updates. “Your brother? You mentioned him once in your file. What kind of heart defect?”
Adeline hesitated, her professional armor slipping for a fraction of a second. “Tetralogy of Fallot. Complicated by pulmonary atresia. He needs a specialized pediatric valve replacement at Northwestern Memorial. The procedure costs eighty thousand dollars out-of-pocket because our insurance classified it as ‘experimental elective surgery.’”
Nico stared at her. He remembered the background check his legal team had run before hiring her—clean record, single guardian to a seven-year-old brother, drowning in medical debt in a tiny Cicero apartment.
“Eighty thousand,” Nico murmured. He reached for the secure landline on his bedside table, punching in a direct internal extension without breaking eye contact with her. “Vincenzo. Bring my ledger up. The private family trust account. Wire eighty-five thousand dollars immediately to the pediatric cardiology fund at Northwestern Memorial, earmarked for patient Wesley Marsh. Make it anonymous, but ensure the hospital director clears him for surgery by Monday morning.”
Adeline froze, her breath catching in her throat. “Mr. Alfieri—Nico, you can’t just—”
May you like
“I can do whatever I want with my own money,” Nico interrupted, his voice brooking no argument. “You save my life from chemical poisoning, Adeline. The least I can do is save your brother’s heart. Consider it a hazard bonus.”
Before Adeline could find the words to respond, the heavy glass window of the medical wing shattered inward with an ear-splitting crack.
