Chapter 7 - THE PRICE OF BLOOD
The hospital waiting room smelled of bleach and stale coffee.
I sat in a hard plastic chair, wearing my stained maid's uniform, staring at the sterile white doors of the pediatric ICU.
Luca sat beside me. He hadn't left. He had dismissed his guests, handled the police, sent Vanessa packing with nothing but the clothes on her back, and ordered his private medical team to take over Lily’s care.
“She’s going to be alright,” Luca said quietly, handing me a cup of warm tea.
I took it with trembling hands. “Charles said she needed a transplant. Why wouldn't he tell me? Why keep her hidden if she was dying?”
Luca leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The harsh fluorescent lights caught the exhaustion in his dark eyes.
“Because Charles is a parasite,” Luca explained softly. “He knew if he came to you directly, you would save her, and then the courts would give you full custody. He couldn't risk losing his leverage. He brought her to Vanessa because Vanessa had the financial resources to pay for black-market treatments to keep Lily just healthy enough until he could extract more money from her.”
Nausea washed over me.
My own child. Used as a poker chip by the people who were supposed to protect her.
The ICU doors swung open. A gray-haired doctor in scrubs walked out, pulling off his mask.
I shot up from the chair. “Is she okay? Is she awake?”
The doctor looked at Luca first, a silent sign of respect, then turned to me.
“Ms. Brooks,” the doctor said gently. “Your daughter is stable. Her fever has broken.”
I let out a sob of relief, covering my mouth.
“However,” the doctor continued, his brow furrowing. “I need to clarify something. We ran a full panel of bloodwork.”
He handed a chart to Luca.
“Your daughter does not have leukemia,” the doctor stated clearly. “She doesn't need a bone marrow transplant.”
I stared at him, my mind short-circuiting. “But Charles said…”
“Charles lied,” Luca said, his voice turning to ice as he read the chart. He looked up at the doctor. “Explain this to her.”
The doctor sighed heavily. “Lily’s symptoms—the fatigue, the fever, the fainting—weren't caused by a disease. They were caused by low-dose, chronic ingestion of Thallium. A heavy metal.”
My tea cup slipped from my fingers, shattering against the linoleum floor.
Hot liquid splashed my ankles, but I didn't feel it.
“Poison?” I whispered, the word tasting like ash in my mouth.
“Yes,” the doctor said gently. “Someone has been purposefully poisoning your daughter to mimic the symptoms of a severe illness.”
I couldn't breathe. The walls of the hospital began to close in on me.
Charles had poisoned our little girl. Just to maintain control. Just to keep the lie alive.
I felt strong hands grip my shoulders, steadying me before my knees could give out. Luca pulled me against his chest. I buried my face in his tailored jacket, weeping with a primal, agonizing rage.
“I'll kill him,” I sobbed into his chest. “I swear to God, I'll kill him.”
“You won't have to,” Luca whispered, his voice vibrating with a terrifying promise. “I already made the call.”
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Then, a nurse peeked her head out of the ICU doors.
“Excuse me,” she said softly. “Lily is asking for her mother. She said she has something she needs to give you.”
