Chapter 2 - What the Doctors Never Told Him

Carla returned to the estate just before dusk.

Massimo had spent the entire day pretending to read.

When she entered the library, she was carrying no envelope.

Dean was nowhere in sight.

Camille had gone to a wedding fitting.

Julian Hale was expected the next morning.

Carla shut the door.

“Well?”

“She said she’ll call.”

“She?”

“Dr. Voss.”

Massimo nodded.

“Did anyone follow you?”

Carla hesitated.

“That’s not the answer I wanted.”

“A black SUV stayed behind my taxi from Queensboro Plaza to Midtown.”

Massimo’s fingers tightened around the wheelchair rim.

“Did you see the driver?”

“No.”

“Plate?”

“I wrote it down.”

She handed him a folded receipt.

Massimo read the number.

He knew it.

Not from memory.

From a security report.

The vehicle belonged to one of Dean’s shell companies.

“Thank you.”

Carla watched his face.

“You know who it was.”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Someone who shouldn’t have been following you.”

Her eyes widened.

“I have Nina here.”

“I know.”

“Then if there’s something dangerous happening—”

“There is.”

Carla went still.

Massimo hated the fear he had put in her face.

He had spent most of his life surrounded by people who understood danger as a currency.

Carla did not.

She had taken the housekeeping job because the estate paid more than hotels.

She lived with her daughter in a small staff cottage near the southern garden.

She did not belong in the Rinaldi world.

Neither did Nina.

“Pack a bag,” he said.

Carla blinked.

“You’re firing me?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“You and Nina are leaving for two days.”

“To where?”

“I have a place in Connecticut.”

“No.”

Massimo looked at her.

“No?”

“I’m not taking my daughter to some hidden house because people around you are dangerous.”

“That is exactly why you should take her.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it.”

Carla folded her arms.

“My husband died because a contractor ignored safety rules and everyone told me afterward that I should be grateful for the settlement.”

Massimo said nothing.

“I spent two years rebuilding a normal life for Nina. I’m not going to let powerful men move us around like pieces because they created a problem.”

His expression hardened slightly.

“You think I created this?”

“I think your life did.”

The words landed harder than he expected.

Carla immediately looked guilty.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

She waited.

Massimo looked toward the window.

“You’re right.”

That surprised her.

He continued.

“But being right won’t make you safe tonight.”

“What will?”

“Leaving.”

Carla’s shoulders lowered.

“Just two days?”

“If this is nothing, yes.”

“And if it isn’t?”

Massimo met her eyes.

“Then I’ll tell you the truth.”

An hour later, Carla and Nina left the estate in a car driven by an old Rinaldi employee Dean did not know was still working for Massimo.

Nina pressed both palms against the rear window.

“Bye, Uncle Massimo!”

He lifted one hand.

She shouted through the glass.

“Don’t let your feet sleep too much!”

Massimo almost smiled.

Then the car disappeared through the gates.

At 8:17 p.m., Dr. Elena Voss called.

Massimo answered immediately.

“You’re alone?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“What is it?”

Elena did not answer right away.

That frightened him more than anything.

“Massimo, where did you get the tablet?”

“From my doctor.”

“You’ve been taking these?”

“One every evening.”

“For how long?”

“Almost six months.”

Elena swore quietly.

Massimo’s voice became cold.

“Tell me.”

“It’s baclofen combined with another compound.”

“I know what baclofen is.”

“Not at this concentration. And the second compound is a sedative derivative that isn’t commonly prescribed in the United States.”

“What would it do?”

“In a healthy patient? Weakness, decreased muscle tone, dizziness, numbness.”

“In someone with a spinal injury?”

“It could make neurological recovery much harder to detect.”

Massimo stopped breathing for a second.

“Detect.”

“Yes.”

“Not prevent?”

“Not necessarily.”

His hand went to his thigh.

He pressed hard.

Nothing.

He moved lower.

Nothing.

Then he pressed two fingers against the arch of his right foot.

A faint sensation moved upward like static.

He froze.

“Elena.”

“What?”

“I felt something.”

“How much?”

“Barely anything.”

“When was your last dose?”

“Last night.”

“Don’t take another one.”

“Could this make me unable to walk?”

“It could make you appear far more impaired than you are. But I need your medical records before I say more.”

Massimo’s voice became almost a whisper.

“Julian told me the damage was permanent.”

“I’m not Julian.”

“Every specialist agreed.”

“Did they examine you independently?”

Massimo thought.

His jaw tightened.

“They all received my scans from Julian.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“No.”

“Who arranged the consultations?”

“Dean.”

Silence.

Elena understood.

Massimo looked toward the library door.

For years he had believed danger announced itself with guns.

Now he understood that danger could arrive in a prescription bottle.

“How fast can you get here?”

“Tonight.”

“No one can know.”

“I’ll come through the service road.”

At 10:03 p.m., Elena entered the mansion wearing a raincoat and carrying a compact medical case.

She was forty-one, silver beginning to show at her temples, and she had known Massimo since medical school, before either of them understood how far their lives would diverge.

She locked the library door.

“Show me your legs.”

Massimo gave her a look.

“Still romantic.”

“Take off your shoes.”

He obeyed.

Elena tested reflexes.

Then sensation.

Then muscle response.

Her face changed.

“What?”

“Again.”

She pressed a blunt instrument against the underside of his foot.

“Anything?”

“A little.”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“Here?”

“Less.”

She tapped beneath his knee.

His lower leg moved.

Not much.

But it moved.

Massimo stared.

Elena did it again.

The same small response.

He looked at her.

“Julian said there was no functional reflex.”

“Julian was wrong.”

“Or lying.”

Elena said nothing.

Massimo’s pulse accelerated.

“Can I walk?”

“I don’t know.”

“Could I?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“I’m refusing to lie to you.”

He looked down at his legs.

For six months he had tried to accept a future in which he would never stand again.

He had redesigned bathrooms.

Changed vehicles.

Moved meetings downstairs.

Allowed Dean to take over responsibilities Massimo once controlled personally.

He had let Camille push the wedding forward because he had been too exhausted to argue.

He had surrendered pieces of his life one by one.

“What else?” he asked.

Elena pulled out a thin flashlight.

“I want to see your medications.”

Massimo pointed toward the locked drawer.

Inside were three bottles.

Elena examined each label.

“These came from a pharmacy?”

“Julian brings them.”

“Of course he does.”

She opened one bottle.

“These tablets match the sample Nina found.”

Massimo looked toward the empty space beside his chair where the basin normally sat.

“A three-year-old noticed what none of us did.”

Elena shook her head.

“She noticed a pill on the floor. Don’t turn her into an investigator.”

“Too late.”

“You sent her away?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Footsteps sounded outside the library.

Elena froze.

Massimo signaled for silence.

The handle turned.

Locked.

Then Dean’s voice came through the door.

“Massimo?”

He looked at Elena.

She quietly closed the medical case.

“Massimo.”

“What?”

“Why is the door locked?”

“I’m asleep.”

“At your desk?”

“Very observant.”

Dean tried the handle again.

“I need to speak with you.”

“Tomorrow.”

A pause.

“Is someone in there?”

Massimo’s face became expressionless.

“No.”

Elena mouthed, He knows.

Massimo lifted one finger.

Dean remained outside another ten seconds.

Then his footsteps retreated.

Elena exhaled.

“You need to leave this house.”

“No.”

“He may have been poisoning you.”

“Which is why I’m staying.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.”

“To a criminal.”

“Yes.”

Elena stared at him.

He leaned forward.

“If Dean believes I’m helpless, I have an advantage.”

“You are not helpless.”

“He thinks I am.”

“And Julian?”

“Tomorrow morning, I’m going to find out how much he knows.”

Elena shook her head.

“You’re going to confront him?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I’m going to let him lie.”

The next morning, Julian Hale arrived at nine.

He wore his usual navy overcoat and carried the same black medical bag.

Massimo sat by the window.

Dean stood near the fireplace.

Camille had returned early and was reading messages on her phone.

Everything looked normal.

Julian smiled.

“How are we today?”

Massimo returned the smile.

“Numb.”

Julian opened his bag.

“Any changes?”

“No.”

“Pain?”

“None.”

“Muscle response?”

“Nothing.”

Dean watched quietly.

Julian checked Massimo’s blood pressure.

Then he took out a small cup.

“Your afternoon medication.”

“Now?”

“I’m changing the schedule.”

Massimo looked at the pill.

The same white tablet.

He took it between two fingers.

“Why?”

“Better absorption.”

“Will it help me walk?”

Julian’s expression softened with practiced sympathy.

“Massimo, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to give you false hope.”

“What if I told you I felt something in my foot last night?”

The room went silent.

Dean’s gaze snapped toward him.

Julian paused.

“What kind of sensation?”

“A little pressure.”

“That can happen.”

“You said it couldn’t.”

“I said meaningful neurological recovery was unlikely.”

“No. You said impossible.”

Julian’s face tightened.

“Perhaps you remember it differently.”

Massimo looked at Dean.

Dean did not move.

Then Massimo placed the pill on his tongue.

Camille relaxed.

Julian closed the medication cup.

Dean’s shoulders loosened almost imperceptibly.

Massimo swallowed water.

“Happy?”

Julian smiled.

“Healthy.”

He finished the examination and left twenty minutes later.

Dean followed him into the hall.

Massimo waited.

Then he reached beneath his tongue and removed the pill.

He had hidden it against his cheek.

Camille stared.

“What are you doing?”

Massimo dropped the wet tablet into a tissue.

“Learning.”

Her face changed.

“Learning what?”

He wheeled closer.

“Whether my doctor is trying to keep me in this chair.”

Camille went pale.

“That’s insane.”

“Maybe.”

“And Dean?”

“I don’t know.”

She stood.

“You think Dean did this?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to.”

Massimo heard the phrase for the third time.

Only now, it sounded like fear.

He looked at her more carefully.

Camille’s hand was trembling.

“You know something.”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

She stepped backward.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Camille.”

“I’m late.”

“For what?”

She grabbed her handbag.

“Wedding things.”

Massimo watched her leave.

Seconds later, his phone vibrated.

A message from Elena.

I checked the serial numbers you sent from the medication bottles. The labels are counterfeit.

Massimo read it twice.

Then another message appeared.

Also, I compared your hospital discharge scan with the scan Julian used for the specialist consultations.

They are not the same scan.

Massimo’s breath stopped.

A third message.

Someone replaced your original imaging.

He looked toward the doorway where Camille had disappeared.

Then toward the hallway where Dean and Julian were speaking in low voices.

For six months, Massimo had believed an enemy had taken his legs.

May you like

[COMPLETED] She waited ten years for her fiancé, but the night she marri...

[COMPLETED] Five Years After My Mafia Husband Chose Another Woman, He Me...

[COMPLETED] I CALLED MY HUSBAND 18 TIMES WHILE OUR SON WAS DYING. EIGHT...

Now he understood the truth was worse.

Someone inside his own house had built the wheelchair around him.