Chapter 2 - The Flight to Rome
The Gulfstream G650 sliced through the pitch-black sky high above the Tyrrhenian Sea. Inside the converted medical cabin, the air smelled of ozone, antiseptic, and high-octane tension.
Little Leo lay in a state-of-the-art transport incubator, his tiny body hooked up to advanced monitors. Arya sat on a swivel stool beside him, a laryngoscope in her hand, monitoring his airway every thirty seconds. Across the narrow aisle sat Rocco Marchetti, his jacket removed, his dark shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal forearm tattoos detailing old Sicilian proverbs of blood and vengeance.
Vanessa sat in the far leather armchair near the front of the cabin, drinking champagne from a crystal flute and glaring at Arya with open hatred.
"His temperature is stabilizing," Arya said, breaking the silence as she checked the digital readout on the incubator. "37.2 degrees Celsius. The localized swelling around the neck incision is minimal, but we need to administer IV dexamethasone to keep the tissue from expanding."
Rocco didn't look up from his encrypted phone. "Miller brought the medical transport kit from the house. Tell him what to inject."
"Miller is terrified of you," Arya said flatly. "His hands are shaking. I will administer the IV myself."
She stood up, reaching for a vial of steroid solution from the hanging rack. As she drew the fluid into a syringe, she felt Rocco’s gaze burning into her back.
"Why didn't you tell me who you were when you applied for the job?" Rocco asked suddenly.
"Because disgraced pediatric surgeons who are wanted for medical negligence don't get hired as private doctors by crime bosses," Arya replied, flicking the air bubbles out of the syringe with a crisp snap. "And maids don't get asked questions. I needed cash. You paid three thousand euros a month under the table. It was enough to cover my mother's experimental treatment after Hopkins froze my pension."
"A heart surgeon cleaning my floors for three grand a month," Rocco mused, leaning back in his leather seat. "A tragedy for medicine. A miracle for me."
"It wasn't a miracle," Arya snapped, inserting the syringe into Leo's IV line and pushing the medication slowly. "It was negligence on your part. Who had access to the baby's food today?"
The cabin temperature seemed to drop ten degrees in an instant.
Vanessa froze with her glass halfway to her mouth. Rocco’s eyes narrowed into slits of pure, predatory steel.
"What are you implying, doctor?" Rocco asked softly.
"I’m not implying anything. I’m telling you facts," Arya said, turning to face him directly, completely unbothered by his terrifying demeanor. "The sudden glottic edema Leo suffered wasn't viral. It was too fast. His throat closed in less than twenty minutes. That is either an extreme, hyper-acute allergic reaction or an exposure to an irritant—a chemical toxin, a organophosphate pesticide, or an aspirated caustic substance."
"Are you saying my son was poisoned?" Rocco’s voice was dangerously quiet.
"I’m saying his blood needs to be run through a high-performance liquid chromatography screen the moment we land," Arya answered. "Six-month-old babies don't randomly stop breathing while sleeping in a sterile nursery unless something was introduced into their system."
"This is absurd!" Vanessa shouted, jumping out of her chair and walking down the narrow aisle, her heels clicking loudly against the hardwood floor. "Rocco, she's trying to divert attention away from herself! She probably poisoned Leo earlier today so she could play the hero and regain her medical status!"
Arya turned her cool blue eyes toward Vanessa. "I was scrubbing the marble floor in the grand foyer from 1:00 PM to 6:00 PM under the direct supervision of your chief housekeeper, Mrs. Gable. I haven't been within ten feet of the nursery since yesterday morning—until Mr. Marchetti ordered me to sit outside the door at 2:00 AM."
Arya stepped closer to Vanessa, looking down at the taller woman's trembling hands.
"However," Arya continued, her voice dropping into an analytical, terrifyingly calm register, "when I was scrubbing the floor near the kitchen at 4:00 PM, I noticed you adding a clear liquid supplement from an unlabelled amber bottle into Leo’s evening formula."
Vanessa’s face went completely drained of color. "That... that was organic chamomile drops! For his colic! The pediatrician in Naples prescribed it!"
"Chamomile doesn't cause glottic edema," Arya replied icy. "Unless it's contaminated with concentrated belladonna alkaloids or a heavy solvent. Where did you buy those drops, Vanessa?"
"Rocco!" Vanessa wailed, turning to her fiancé, her eyes wide with frantic tears. "Are you going to let this servant accuse me of harming your son? I love Leo! I'm going to be his mother!"
Rocco didn't look at Vanessa. He kept his eyes locked on Arya. The silence in the jet was deafening, broken only by the hum of the jet engines and the steady beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor.
"Bruno," Rocco said low.
The massive security chief stepped out from the cockpit doorway. "Yes, boss?"
"When we land in Rome, take the amber bottle from Vanessa's vanity in the Amalfi villa. Send it directly to Dr. Vance's lab team at the clinic. If there is anything in those drops that shouldn't be there..." Rocco looked at Vanessa, his dark eyes void of all human warmth. "...we will have a very different conversation."
"Rocco, no!" Vanessa cried, shrinking back.
"Sit down, Vanessa," Rocco said, his voice flat as tombstone granite. "And shut your mouth before I have Bruno put tape over it."
Vanessa scrambled back to her seat, her body shaking as she poured herself another full glass of champagne with slick, terrified fingers.
Rocco turned back to Arya. He reached out, his long fingers picking up a sterile swab from her tray.
"You have sharp eyes, Dr. Vance," Rocco murmured. "And a very dangerous tongue."
"I used to operate on infants whose hearts were the size of a walnut, Mr. Marchetti," Arya said softly, turning back to check Leo’s pupils with her penlight. "When you spend fifteen years looking through a surgical microscope, you learn to spot tiny flaws before they kill the patient."
"And what flaws do you see in me?" Rocco asked, his voice laced with a strange, dark curiosity.
Arya glanced over her shoulder at him. "You’re surrounded by people who are terrified of you, which means no one tells you the truth. You live in a world of wealth and paranoia, yet you almost let your son choke to death because you hired paramedics based on their discretion rather than their pediatric surgical trauma certifications."
Rocco stared at her for a long moment, then let out a low, gravelly laugh that held no humor.
"Fair point, doctor," Rocco said, leaning back. "Then consider your employment terms officially changed. As of this moment, you are not just Leo's doctor. You are my chief medical advisor. You report to no one but me. And if anyone in my inner circle tries to step between you and my son..."
May you like
He touched the heavy gold ring on his pinky finger.
"...I will hand them to Bruno."
