Chapter 4 - The Doctor’s Verdict
Dr. Vance arrived twelve minutes later, winded and carrying a heavy black leather bag. He was an older man with silver hair and kind, tired eyes who had patched up gunshot wounds for the Moretti family for thirty years without asking questions.
He examined Emma in the small, sterile room while Sophia and Lorenzo stood in the hallway just outside the open door.
The silence between them was heavy. Lorenzo stood with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets, staring out the high barred window at the rain lashing against the glass.
“She’s going to be fine,” Dr. Vance said, walking out of the room a quarter-hour later, wiping his hands with a cloth. “Severe ear infection leading to a high fever. I’ve given her an antibiotic injection and a dose of liquid ibuprofen. Her temperature should drop within the hour. Keep her hydrated and let her sleep.”
Sophia let out a ragged breath, leaning back against the wall until her knees nearly buckled. “Thank you, Doctor. Thank you so much.”
“Just doing my job, my dear,” the old man smiled gently, packing his instruments into his bag. He glanced at Lorenzo. “You’ve got a fighter there, Boss. Reminds me of...”
Dr. Vance stopped himself, clearing his throat awkwardly as he caught the warning flash in Lorenzo’s eyes.
“Good night, Mr. Moretti,” the doctor muttered, hurrying down the hall.
Lorenzo watched him leave, then turned his gaze back to Sophia. “Go inside. Stay with her.”
“Mr. Moretti... thank you,” Sophia said, her voice cracking. “I know I crossed the line. I know I broke every rule you have.”
“You did,” Lorenzo agreed flatly. “And tomorrow morning, we will discuss your disciplinary action.”
Sophia’s heart sank, but she nodded. “All right.”
She slipped back into the room. Emma was already breathing more easily, her flush receding into a soft, natural pink. Sophia pulled a chair close to the bed, took her daughter’s small hand, and fell asleep with her head resting against the mattress.
What she didn't know was that Lorenzo didn't go back to his study.
He stood outside her door for three hours, watching through the small glass pane as Sophia stroked her daughter’s hair, whispering soft reassurances into the dark. It was a domestic scene he hadn't seen in this house for three agonizing years—a mother protecting her child against the cold.
And somewhere in the dark corners of his wounded soul, a wall he had built out of steel and iron began to crack.
The next morning, Sophia woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and roasted bread.
She sat up, stiff and sore from sleeping in the chair, and looked toward the bed. Emma was sitting up against the pillows, happily eating a bowl of oatmeal with sliced bananas—fruit that wasn't normally on the standard staff menu.
Standing by the small table was Mrs. Higgins, the head housekeeper, looking unusually flustered.
“Good morning, Miss Carter,” Mrs. Higgins said stiffly.
“Mrs. Higgins? What’s all this?” Sophia asked, pointing to the tray of food and a bottle of expensive children’s medicine.
“Mr. Moretti’s orders,” the older woman replied, her tone softening just a fraction. “He said the child needs proper nutrition while she recovers. And you... well, you are relieved of your cleaning duties for the next forty-eight hours to look after her.”
Sophia stared at her in disbelief. “Relieved of duties? With pay?”
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“With pay,” Mrs. Higgins confirmed, turning toward the door. “And one more thing, Miss Carter. Mr. Moretti wishes to see you in his study at noon. Alone.”
Sophia’s stomach dropped. The other shoe was finally dropping. The medical help and the paid leave had just been the prelude to her execution.
