Chapter 3 - The Broken Alliance
The elevator doors split open, and a man in a tailored charcoal suit walked into the penthouse, flanked by four federal agents with badges pinned to their lapels. But it wasn't the marshals who made Vincent’s eyes turn into shards of ice—it was the man leading them.
Marcus Vance. Vincent’s legal fixer and the head of his corporate operations for a decade. The man who held the keys to every shell company and shipping manifest in the Mercer empire.
"Vincent," Marcus said, his voice smooth, entirely lacking the deference he usually showed. "You look terrible. You should have stayed in the hospital."
Vincent didn't stand up. He remained in his chair, his arm resting casually over the armrest, but his left hand had already slipped inside the fold of his robe where a small caliber pistol was hidden. "You brought the feds into my home, Marcus. That is a very expensive mistake."
"It’s not a mistake, Vincent. It’s a transition," Marcus said, stepping forward while the agents kept their hands near their holsters. "The grand jury handed down a sealed indictment an hour ago. The waterfront assets are frozen. The captains have already agreed that a man who can’t even let a doctor touch him without having a panic attack isn't fit to lead a war against the Valettis."
Marcus flicked his gaze to Nora, his lip curling in a faint sneer. "And this is the new secret weapon? A charity nurse from Lakeshore? You’ve really fallen, Vincent. You used to be a ghost. Now you’re just pathetic."
Nora felt a sudden surge of heat in her chest. She stepped between Vincent’s chair and Marcus, her five-foot-four frame solid and unyielding. "He is a postoperative patient with an active internal infection risk. If you move him from this room without a medical transport vehicle, he will suffer a systemic collapse before you reach the courthouse. I won't authorize the transfer."
Marcus laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. "Get out of the way, honey. The big-girl scrubs don't give you a badge. Agents, take him."
"Touch him," Nora said, her voice dropping into that quiet, terrifyingly calm register she used when a patient was violent, "and I will personally note in the medical log that you intentionally caused aggravated assault on an incapacitated citizen. The Chicago press loves stories about federal marshals killing men before their trial."
The agents hesitated. They looked at each other, then at Dr. Evans’s signature on the discharge papers lying on the table.
Vincent looked at Nora’s back. For eleven years, men had stood in front of him with guns to protect his money. No one had ever stood in front of him with nothing but a nursing degree and a fierce, protective heart to shield his dignity.
"Marcus," Vincent said, his voice cut through the room like a piano wire snapping. "You think you bought the captains. You forgot that I bought the banks that hold the captains' mortgages. Look at your phone."
Marcus frowned, his hand instinctively reaching into his pocket as his device vibrated. His face went entirely white as he read the screen.
"The offshore accounts in Panama," Marcus whispered. "They’re gone."
"I transferred them while Nora was changing my bandages," Vincent said, a cold, dead smile touching his lips. "You thought I was distracted because I was bleeding. I am never distracted, Marcus. Agents, I suggest you take Mr. Vance into custody. The indictment he forgot to tell you about includes his signature on the harbor fraud documents, not mine. I am just a simple landlord recovering from a terrible accident."
The marshals looked at the phone Marcus was holding, then at each other. Within two minutes, the handcuffs were on Marcus's wrists, and he was being dragged out of the penthouse, screaming curses that echoed down the elevator shaft.
When the doors closed, the room became completely silent again. Vincent let go of the gun inside his robe. His chest rose and fell rapidly, the exertion of the confrontation taking its toll.
He looked up at Nora, who was standing there, her shoulders thrown back, her breathing heavy.
"You called me a citizen," Vincent said softly.
May you like
"You are," she said, turning around, her face softening as she rushed back to his side to check his pulse. "A very annoying, very stubborn citizen who needs to take his antibiotics right now."
Vincent took her hand, his palm rough against hers. He didn't let go for the rest of the night.
