Chapter 3 - The Doctor's Verdict and Beatrice's Valor
The private medical suite on the third floor of the east wing looked less like a bedroom and more like an intensive care unit disguised as a luxury hotel suite. The walls were panelled in warm cherry wood, but the monitors humming in the corner flashed clinical blues and greens, casting an eerie glow across Lily’s pale face.
Dr. Vance straightened up from checking the digital readout on the IV pump, his silver-rimmed glasses slipping slightly down his nose. He exhaled a long, tired breath and turned to face Leo, who stood like a statue at the foot of the bed.
“She’s stabilizing, Leo,” Vance said quietly. “The oxygen levels in her blood are coming back up to normal range. Another three minutes in that cellar without her rescue inhaler, and we would have been talking about permanent neurological damage—or worse.”
Leo didn’t blink. The silence in the room was heavier than lead.
“She’s sleeping now,” Vance added, packing his stethoscope into his leather bag. “The epinephrine injection did its job, but she’s exhausted. She needs absolute quiet for the next twenty-four hours. No stress, no visitors, just rest.”
“Thank you, Arthur,” Leo said, his voice flat.
The doctor gave a solemn nod, patted Leo once on the shoulder—a familiarity reserved only for men who had shared trenches together—and stepped out of the room, closing the heavy mahogany door softly behind him.
Leo walked slowly around the side of the bed. He reached down, his large, scarred hand gently stroking a stray lock of dark hair away from Lily’s damp forehead. Her breathing was still slightly ragged, but the terrifying blue tint around her lips had vanished, replaced by a faint, natural warmth.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Leo didn’t turn. “Come in.”
The door opened a fraction of an inch, and Beatrice slipped into the room. She had cleaned the dried blood from her jaw with a warm cloth, but the split skin was already turning a bruised shade of purple-blue. She wore her torn maid’s uniform, her shoulders hunched defensively as if she expected a blow.
“Mr. Rossi,” she murmured, keeping her eyes fixed on the Persian rug near the door. “I… Dr. Vance said she was resting. I just wanted to check before I went down to pack my things.”
Leo turned his head slowly.
“Pack your things?” he asked.
Beatrice swallowed hard, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of her torn apron. “Well… yes, sir. After what happened with Miss Kensington… I’m sure you’ll want to clear out the staff, start fresh. And I was the one who let her in, the one who caused the commotion in the kitchen…”
Leo walked across the room. He didn’t stop until he was standing right in front of her. Up close, Beatrice felt suffocated by his sheer presence—the broad expanse of his shoulders, the faint scent of expensive cedar and gun oil, and those dark, fathomless eyes that seemed to read every secret she had ever tried to hide.
“Beatrice,” Leo said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. “Look at me.”
She raised her chin slowly, forcing her amber eyes to meet his.
“You stood between a woman with a diamond ring and a dying child,” Leo said, every word weighted with immovable iron. “You took a blow to the face. You risked your life, your livelihood, and your safety in a house where ninety percent of the people treat you like furniture.”
He reached out. Beatrice held her breath, bracing herself.
Instead of striking her, his large, warm thumb brushed lightly across the bruised, swollen skin of her cheekbone. The touch was so tender, so completely at odds with the violent reputation that preceded him, that Beatrice felt a hot tear slip down her nose.
“You didn’t cause a commotion,” Leo continued, his voice dropping an octave. “You saved my daughter’s life. In this house, that makes you more valuable than every diamond Victoria Kensington ever wore.”
“Mr. Rossi…”
“From this moment on,” Leo interrupted, his tone brooking no argument, “you are no longer a maid, Beatrice. You are Lily’s permanent guardian and head of the household staff. Your salary is tripled. Your room is being moved to the master suite wing on this floor. And if anyone in this estate ever looks at you sideways again, they won't just be fired—they’ll answer to Mateo.”
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Beatrice stared at him, her mouth slightly open. “I… I don't know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Leo said, stepping back and gesturing toward the armchair beside Lily’s bed. “Just sit down. She’s going to wake up in an hour, and the first person she’s going to look for is you.”
