Chapter 3 - The Doctor’s Secret
In the medical bay adjacent to the east gallery, Dr. Samuel Mercer paced anxiously, his stethoscope dangling from his pocket like a noose. The heavy glass door swung open, and Vincent stepped inside, his broad shoulders blocking the exit, followed closely by Dominic.
Mercer recoiled, his face pale. "Dominic... listen to me. I had nothing to do with the brace. I swear to you—"
"Shut your mouth, Samuel," Dominic said softly. The quiet deadliness in his tone froze the doctor in his tracks. Dominic closed the distance between them, towering over the older man. "You’ve been my physician for a decade. You examined me after the crash on Lower Wacker. You managed my recovery protocol. Tell me why a veteran orthopedist didn't notice a reversed retaining plate on a custom medical device."
Mercer swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. "I... I trusted the rehabilitation staff. Angela Pierce handled the day-to-day adjustments. She said—"
"Angela Pierce hasn't worked for us in two weeks," Vincent cut in, his eyes narrowing. "She resigned abruptly and took an extended vacation to the Cayman Islands. Paid for in cash. We checked her bank records thirty minutes ago."
Mercer staggered backward, his hip hitting the stainless-steel examination table. "I didn't know... Arthur told me she was the best. He recommended her. He said... he said you needed to be handled carefully, that you were pushing yourself too hard and needed a firmer hand in recovery."
Dominic’s eyes flashed with fury. "A firmer hand? He was systematically crippling me, piece by piece, so the council would deem me unfit to lead by midnight tonight."
"He threatened me, Dominic!" Mercer broke down, his hands trembling as he gripped the edge of the table. "Two months ago, my son ran up massive gambling debts with offshore syndicates tied to the South Side crews. I couldn't pay. Arthur stepped in. He cleared the ledger in a single afternoon. But the price... the price was my silence. I had to sign off on whatever physical therapy adjustments his people recommended. I swear to God, I never thought they would permanently damage your leg. I thought it was just a way to slow you down!"
May you like
Dominic stared at the broken man before him. There was no pity left in his heart—only cold, calcified resolve.
"Pack your things, Samuel," Dominic whispered. "Vincent will escort you to the basement vault. You will write down every name, every transaction, and every instruction Arthur ever gave you. If a single detail is missing, your son's debts will look like a holiday compared to what I do to you."
