Chapter 6 - Cracks in the Dynasty
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Leo was stabilized and transferred to the intensive care unit under maximum armed security by six in the evening.
I scrubbed the dried blood from my hands and arms in the staff locker room, watching the pink water swirl down the drain.
My entire body felt drained of adrenaline, but there was a quiet, unshakable clarity settling deep within my bones.
I pulled on a clean set of navy scrubs, pinned my mother’s silver emblem back onto my chest, and walked into the ICU corridor.
The entire floor had been placed on total lockdown by hospital administration and local law enforcement.
Two plainclothes detectives stood at the far end of the hallway, while Marco’s private security detail guarded the entrance to Room 304.
Marco was standing outside the glass observation window, his broad hands jammed deep into his trouser pockets.
When he heard the soft squeak of my sneakers against the floor, he turned his head slowly in my direction.
The exhaustion etched around his eyes made him look human, stripping away the untouchable myth of his empire.
“The surgeon came out twenty minutes ago,” Marco said quietly, his voice raspy from hours of silent anguish.
“He told me that if that catheter hadn't been placed within sixty seconds, Leo’s heart would have seized completely.”
“I was just doing my job, Mr. Santoro,” I answered, standing beside him and looking through the glass at Leo’s resting form.
“No, Claire,” Marco whispered, turning his body toward me.
“You saved my brother’s life after my family treated you like dirt on our dining room floor.”
“Leo didn't treat me like dirt,” I replied softly.
“He always thanked me whenever I brought him extra dessert in the kitchen, and he called me by my name.”
A bittersweet, faint smile crossed Marco’s lips, but it evaporated instantly as the elevator doors chimed at the end of the hall.
Vivienne Ashford marched out of the elevator cab, wearing a crimson trench coat and towering designer heels.
Her makeup was pristine, but her expression was twisted into a mask of theatrical outrage.
“Marco!” Vivienne cried out loudly, ignoring the nurses who hissed for quiet in the intensive care unit.
“I rushed here the second I heard about Leo!” she exclaimed, extending her manicured hands toward his chest.
Marco stepped back, letting her hands fall awkwardly into empty air between them.
Vivienne froze, her eyes narrowing as she noticed me standing less than two feet away from her fiancé.
“What is she doing here?” Vivienne spat, her voice dripping with venomous disgust.
“Why is the kitchen maid hovering around your brother’s intensive care room?” she demanded, turning to Marco.
“She is the nurse who kept Leo alive while you were dining at your country club,” Marco replied, his tone icy enough to freeze the air.
Vivienne scoffed, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder in theatrical disbelief.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Marco, she probably emptied a bedpan and wants to play the heroine to extort your family for money!” Vivienne mocked loudly.
“Keep your voice down in this unit, Ms. Ashford,” I warned her calmly, refusing to let her venom rattle my professional ground.
Vivienne’s eyes flashed with unbridled rage at being corrected by someone she considered lower than dust.
“You do not speak to me!” Vivienne shrieked, raising her right hand with lightning speed to strike my face.
Before her palm could travel three inches through the air, Marco’s tattooed hand shot out like an iron vise.
His fingers clamped around Vivienne’s wrist with bone-crushing intensity, stopping her strike dead in its tracks.
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Vivienne gasped in shock and pain, her eyes widening as Marco pulled her wrist downward until she was forced to lean forward.
“Touch her,” Marco growled in a terrifying, primal register that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, “and you will lose that hand.”
