Chapter 4 - Fever and Faith
Upstairs in Room 304, the storm outside seemed to press against the glass with renewed fury.
Clara Williams lay shivering beneath the blankets, her breath coming in shallow, wheezing hitches. Victor stood guard by the door, his submachine gun resting casually across his chest, his eyes fixed on the hallway.
Zoe sat on the edge of the mattress, clutching her battered teddy bear in one hand and a wet washcloth in the other. With painstaking care, she dabbed her mother’s burning forehead, just as she had seen nurses do in the public clinic back when they still had insurance.
“You’re going to be okay, Mama,” Zoe whispered fiercely, her lower lip trembling. “Mr. Romano is here. He’s big, and he’s scary, but he told me nobody is getting past this door.”
Clara opened her eyes hazily, a weak, sorrowful smile touching her pale lips. “Oh, my sweet girl... you shouldn't have gone downstairs. You shouldn't have touched his shoes.”
“I had to,” Zoe insisted, her amber eyes flashing with stubborn defiance. “If the shoes weren't shiny, he would have sent us away. And we don't have anywhere to go, Mama. This is our home now.”
Victor cleared his throat softly from the doorway. He looked down at the little girl, the hard lines of his weathered face softening just a fraction.
“Kid,” Victor said gruffly, stepping a little closer. “Your old man... what happened to him?”
Zoe looked down at her teddy bear, her small fingers twisting its worn ear. “ Papa went away on a big boat to work in the harbor. He never came back. The men in black suits came to our apartment and said we had to leave because we couldn't pay the rent. That’s why Mama took the job here.”
Victor’s jaw tightened. He knew the harbor slums. He knew how ruthlessly the independent loan sharks operated in the districts the Romano syndicate hadn't fully policed yet.
“Well,” Victor muttered, shifting his grip on his weapon. “Your mother’s got more grit than half the capos I’ve worked with. And you... you’ve got better observational skills than our entire security detail.”
Before Zoe could reply, the heavy oak door creaked open.
I stepped into the room, my coat stained with dust and a faint smear of oil, my hands clean of blood but radiating absolute authority.
Zoe scrambled off the bed, running over to me and grabbing the hem of my trousers. “Did you catch the bad man, Mr. Romano?”
I looked down at her, the harshness melting out of my expression. I knelt down so I was eye-level with her.
“Marcus isn't going to bother anyone ever again,” I said quietly. “And neither are his friends.”
Clara tried to push herself up from the pillows, her voice raspy. “Mr. Romano... please... don't take her away. Send me to the streets if you must, but let her stay safe—!”
“Mrs. Williams,” I interrupted, standing up and cutting through her panic with absolute finality. “Your daughter saved my life tonight by pointing out a traitor at my gate. And you worked yourself into a fever trying to keep a roof over her head in my estate. In the Romano family, loyalty and courage are rewarded, not punished.”
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I turned to Victor. “Call Dr. Vance. Tell him to bring his emergency medical kit and the IV antibiotics from the private clinic immediately. If he takes more than twenty minutes, tell him I’ll tow his car into Lake Michigan.”
“On it, Boss,” Victor said, pulling out his encrypted sat-phone and striding down the hall.
