Chapter 2 - The Command from the Abyss
Vincent’s vision was a blurred haze of white lights and dark silhouettes, but his mind—sharpened by years of paranoia—had caught every word spoken by the girl on the floor.
He reached up with a pale, trembling hand and tore the oxygen cannula from his nose.
"You," Vincent rasped, his cold, pitch-black eyes locking directly onto Elena. "Come... here."
Dr. Vance stepped forward quickly, his face pale. "Mr. Costa, please! You are delirious from the trauma! She is just a cleaning girl who has no idea what she’s talking about—"
"If she is wrong," Vincent whispered, his voice weak but vibrating with absolute command, "I die. If you are wrong... I kill you myself. Give me... what she said."
Dr. Vance’s hands began to shake violently. "Mr. Costa, this is against protocol—"
"Dominic," Vincent croaked, glancing toward the corner of the room.
From the shadows near the balcony, Dominic Vane—Vincent’s chief enforcer and most loyal lieutenant—stepped forward. Dominic pulled a heavy suppressed firearm from his coat, racking the slide with a metallic CLACK that echoed through the silent room.
Dominic pointed the gun directly at Dr. Vance's forehead. "You heard the Boss. Administer what the girl said. Now."
Panicking, one of the younger resident doctors rushed to the crash cart, grabbed an ampoule of Esmolol, and injected it straight into Vincent’s central line, shutting off the high-dose pressor drip at the same time.
For sixty agonizing seconds, the room held its breath. The monitor beat frantically—140, 150, 160 beats per minute.
Then, slowly, the erratic spikes on the monitor began to smooth out. The chaotic rhythm settled.
110... 90... 75 beats per minute.
The deep blue tint on Vincent’s lips faded back to a healthy pink. His breathing grew steady, deep, and clear. His blood pressure stabilized for the first time in eight days.
The eleven other doctors stared at the monitors in absolute disbelief.
Vincent let out a long, clear breath and sat up slightly against his pillows. He looked at Dr. Vance, whose forehead was drenched in cold sweat.
"Dominic," Vincent said softly, his voice regaining its lethal composure. "Lock Dr. Vance in the wine cellar. Search his phone, his bank accounts, and his family’s assets. Find out who paid him to change my dosage."
"No! Mr. Costa! It was an honest mistake! I swear!" Dr. Vance screamed as Dominic’s men dragged him out of the room, kicking and shouting into the long marble corridor.
May you like
Vincent turned his gaze toward Elena, who was still standing by the door holding her wet cleaning towel, her body shaking from the adrenaline rush.
"And you," Vincent said gently, gesturing toward the chair beside his bed. "Sit down, Miss. You just saved my life."
