Chapter 2 - Twenty-Seven Doctors Were Wrong
Sebastian Lombardi did not raise his voice.
That frightened Clare more than shouting would have.
“Explain.”
Clare stepped away from him.
“I can’t yet.”
“You just told me twenty-seven specialists were wrong.”
“I said someone lied to you. That’s not the same thing.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Explain the difference.”
Clare pointed toward his back.
“There’s something beneath that scar. It might be surgical hardware. It might be scar tissue. I don’t know without imaging.”
“My records mention no hardware.”
“That’s the problem.”
The lieutenant moved toward them.
“Maybe she’s mistaken.”
Sebastian turned his head.
The lieutenant stopped immediately.
Clare noticed the reaction.
Not ordinary respect.
Fear.
Sebastian looked back at her.
“His name is Carlo DeLuca. He’s been with me since before the accident.”
Carlo gave Clare a polite nod.
She didn’t return it.
“You reacted when his leg moved,” she said.
Carlo’s expression remained controlled.
“Anyone would.”
“No. You looked scared.”
Sebastian’s attention shifted to Carlo.
A dangerous silence settled over the room.
Carlo finally said, “I was surprised.”
Clare packed her instruments.
“I need the original surgical images.”
“You can have them,” Sebastian said.
“Not copies.”
His gaze sharpened.
“Why?”
“Because copies can be altered.”
Carlo looked away.
Clare saw it.
Sebastian did too.
“When can you come back?” he asked.
“I’m not sure I should.”
“You accepted ten thousand dollars.”
“For an evaluation. I evaluated you.”
“And found something.”
“That wasn’t part of the agreement.”
Sebastian rolled closer.
“You have a son.”
Clare’s blood went cold.
Sebastian immediately read her reaction.
“I’m not threatening him.”
“You know about him.”
“I know about everyone who enters my home.”
“That isn’t comforting.”
“He needs medication.”
Clare said nothing.
Sebastian nodded toward Adrian, the man who had called her.
“Pay her.”
“I haven’t finished.”
“You’re finished when you decide you are.”
Adrian handed Clare an envelope.
She didn’t open it.
She knew what was inside.
Ten thousand dollars.
Enough for Owen’s medicine.
Enough for rent.
Enough to breathe.
That was exactly what made it dangerous.
Clare left fifteen minutes later.
She told herself she would deposit the money, pay the pharmacy, and never return.
At 11:18 p.m., after Owen was asleep, she made the mistake of opening the photographs she had taken of Sebastian’s scar.
The placement bothered her.
She zoomed in.
Then she pulled out an old anatomy textbook.
Thirty minutes became an hour.
At 12:47 a.m., Clare found what she had been looking for.
The scar’s shape did not match the surgical procedure listed in Sebastian’s medical summary.
Not even close.
She stared at the image.
Someone had either performed a second procedure—
or the official records were false.
Her phone buzzed.
No caller ID.
A message appeared.
TAKE THE MONEY.
Clare’s chest tightened.
A second message followed.
BUY YOUR SON HIS MEDICINE.
Then the third.
LEAVE SEBASTIAN LOMBARDI IN THE WHEELCHAIR.
Clare stood so quickly her chair hit the wall.
For several seconds, she simply stared.
They knew about Owen.
They knew about the money.
They knew what she had found.
And they knew she had not yet told Sebastian everything.
Her phone rang.
She nearly dropped it.
Sebastian.
She answered.
“How did you get this number?”
“I gave you ten thousand dollars. I figured it came with your phone number.”
“Someone just messaged me.”
Silence.
“What did they say?”
Clare hesitated.
Sebastian’s tone changed.
“Clare.”
She read the message aloud.
Nothing came from the other end for several seconds.
Then Sebastian asked one question.
“Who knew you were coming here tonight?”
“I don’t know. Your staff. Whoever arranged the appointment.”
“My sister.”
“Carlo.”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“And whoever had access to my background check.”
“Yes.”
Clare walked to Owen’s bedroom.
He was sleeping peacefully.
She lowered her voice.
“I’m done.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I have a child.”
“And someone just used your child to control you.”
“That’s exactly why I’m done.”
“Listen carefully. If you walk away now, whoever sent that message knows intimidation works.”
“And if I stay?”
Sebastian’s voice became very quiet.
“Then we find out why someone is terrified of my legs moving.”
Clare looked again at her sleeping son.
She wanted safety.
She wanted normal.
But normal had disappeared the moment Sebastian Lombardi’s foot moved beneath her hand.
Then another message appeared.
This one contained a photograph.
Clare standing outside Sebastian’s mansion earlier that night.
Taken from across the street.
Below it were six words.
WE ARE WATCHING YOUR HOME TOO.
Clare stopped breathing.
“Sebastian?”
“Yes?”
May you like
“I think I’m coming back.”
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