Chapter 5 - Forty-Eight Hours to War
The subterranean gym beneath the estate smelled of sweat, leather, and iron.
For forty-eight non-stop hours, I pushed my body beyond the limits of human endurance. Guided by my old personal trainer, a retired military physician who swore an oath of absolute secrecy, I underwent brutal, intense physical therapy to reawaken eight years of dormant muscle tissue.
Up. Step. Down. Step.
I wore heavy leather leg braces to support my ankles, sweat pouring off my chest as I lifted weights, practiced walking without a cane, and trained my hands to grip a firearm once again. The pain was astronomical, a constant fire burning in my lower back and thighs, but every time I felt like collapsing, I pictured Audrey’s face... and then I pictured little Lily dancing in my glass garden.
On Thursday evening, twenty-four hours before the gala, the heavy iron door of the subterranean gym opened.
Anton walked in, followed by a tall, emaciated man with sunken eyes, graying hair, and hands that trembled violently. He wore a plain, oversized coat that looked three sizes too big for him.
Dr. Arthur Vance.
I set down the heavy iron bar I was lifting and stood up from the bench, resting my hands on my cane, standing at my full height.
Arthur Vance stopped in his tracks, staring at me. His eyes filled with sudden, overwhelming tears. He fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with profound, wracking sobs.
"Mr. Marino..." Arthur choked out, his voice thin and broken from three years of prison isolation. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I couldn't save your wife... and I couldn't stop them from hurting you..."
I walked over to him, my heavy leather shoes echoing against the concrete floor. I reached down, taking Arthur by his forearms, lifting the broken doctor to his feet.
"You saved my life, Arthur," I said, looking into the eyes of the man who had risked everything to hide a cure under his daughter's floorboards. "Your little girl walked into my forbidden garden and gave me back my legs."
"Lily..." Arthur whispered, a fragile, beautiful smile breaking through his tears. "She... she actually did it?"
"She did," I smiled softly. "And right now, she’s upstairs eating ice cream with her mother and brother in the grand dining room. You're a free man, Arthur. The federal prosecutors have already received the evidence clearing your name. Marcus Vance is going down, and your family will never want for anything ever again."
Arthur wiped his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Marcus doesn't know you can walk, does he?"
"No," I replied, my eyes hardening into two cold pieces of flint. "He thinks he’s attending a victory gala tomorrow night to celebrate my complete retirement and his ascension as the permanent CEO of Marino Enterprises."
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I looked at Anton, who stepped forward holding a black leather briefcase. Inside sat a custom-tailored midnight-blue tuxedo, an engraved silver tie clip, and a sleek, black Kimber .45 pistol.
"Tomorrow night," I growled, picking up the pistol and checking the magazine with a satisfying click, "the Harbor King reclaims his throne."
