Chapter 3 - The Midnight Examination
Dr. Marcus Vance arrived fifteen minutes later, carrying a heavy black leather bag. He was a trusted associate of the Moretti family, a man who had stitched up bullet wounds in dark alleys and kept his mouth shut for twenty years.
"Rhett," Dr. Vance said, entering the study and setting his bag on the coffee table. "Vera said there was an emergency."
"Examine her arm," Rhett ordered, leaning against the edge of his desk with his arms crossed over his chest. "Fresh blunt force trauma, along with old surgical scar tissue."
Dr. Vance turned to Lena, offering a reassuring smile. "May I, young lady?"
Lena hesitated, but seeing the firm look in Rhett's eyes, she slowly unbuttoned her cuff and pulled the gray sleeve all the way up to her shoulder.
Dr. Vance adjusted his glasses, leaning in close. He gently touched the yellowing bruise on her forearm, making Lena wince softly. But as his fingers moved higher, tracing the neat, pale lines running along her upper arm and near her shoulder blade, his expression turned deeply grave.
"Fascinating," Dr. Vance murmured under his breath.
"What is it, Marcus?" Rhett asked, his dark eyes narrowing.
"The bruise is simple—a severe impact from a flat, heavy object. A wooden beam or a thick fist. No bone fractures, fortunately," Dr. Vance explained, gently rotating her wrist. "But these scars... Rhett, look at this."
Rhett stepped over, leaning down beside the chair.
Dr. Vance pointed to three tiny, circular white marks positioned in a precise triangle near her collarbone. "These aren't from an operation. These are skin graft entry points used to cover internal metal plating. And these long lines here... this was a full reconstructive arterial repair."
Rhett looked at Lena's face. She had her eyes closed tight, her teeth biting down hard on her lower lip.
"What kind of accident causes this, Marcus?" Rhett asked softly.
"An explosion," Dr. Vance replied flatly. "Or a high-velocity vehicle impact involving military-grade shrapnel. Whoever performed this surgery was a master. They saved her arm, but it took months of reconstructive work."
Rhett's heart hammered against his ribs. He remembered something—a dark, bloody night three years ago on the outskirts of Chicago.
Three years ago, an explosion had rocked a rival syndicate's warehouse on the South Side. A rogue faction of the Castiglione family had been operating an illegal weapons lab. The warehouse had blown sky-high, killing twelve men and injuring several civilians in a nearby diner.
At the time, the police reported that a young woman—a local college student—had been pulled from the rubble with severe injuries before vanishing from the hospital records.
Rhett looked at Lena, the realization crashing over him like a tidal wave.
"The South Side explosion," Rhett whispered, his dark eyes locked onto her face. "Three years ago. November sixteenth."
Lena's eyes snapped open. She looked at Rhett with absolute terror.
"You were in the diner next door," Rhett continued, his voice barely a breath. "You weren't just hit by a father's fist last night. You survived the Castiglione bomb."
Lena pulled her arm back, clutching her sleeve to her chest. "It was an accident. I was just studying in the diner..."
"It wasn't an accident," Rhett growled, his face darkening into something terrifying. "The Castigliones set that bomb to wipe out my men who were inspecting the block. They used a military-grade nitrogen pack."
He stepped closer, crouching right in front of her chair, forcing her to look at him.
"You carrying those scars because of my war, Lena," Rhett said, his voice thick with an emotion he couldn't quite contain. "My family's war ruined your arm three years ago."
"I didn't know it was yours," Lena whispered, tears finally spilling over her lashes. "I just knew that night destroyed my life. It took me a year of physical therapy to use my fingers again so I could finish nursing school."
Rhett stared at the brave, beautiful girl sitting in front of him. The guilt and protective fury burning in his chest was absolute.
He turned to Dr. Vance. "Leave us, Marcus. Treat her mother. Send a car to 47th Street, bring Clara Carter here, and put her in the guest suite. If Boyd Carter tries to stop you, tell my guards to put him in the river."
Dr. Vance nodded without a word, packed his bag, and hurried out of the room.
May you like
Lena gasped. "You can't bring my mother here! Boyd will—"
"Boyd is finished," Rhett interrupted, reaching out and gently wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Nobody hurts my people, Lena. And whether you like it or not, the moment you walked into my house carrying the scars of my war, you became mine to protect."
