Chapter 4 - The Doctor's Prescription
Dr. Evans did not look surprised to see New York's most feared crime boss standing in his elevator.
He adjusted his expensive designer glasses, his grip tightening significantly on the deadly syringe.
"I was genuinely hoping it would not have to end in such a messy way, Mr. Hartley."
The distinguished doctor spoke with the calm, detached tone of a man discussing a mundane weather forecast.
Owen leaned heavily against the steel wall of the elevator, his dark eyes burning with unadulterated fury.
"How much did my family pay you to keep me locked in my own mind for two years, Doctor?"
Dr. Evans offered a polite, deeply patronizing smile as he reached his free hand toward the emergency stop button on the control panel.
"Your underboss offered me five million dollars and a guaranteed seat on the board of directors for my silence."
Before the corrupt doctor could press the button to lock us inside the steel box, I acted on pure, desperate instinct.
I reached into the front pocket of my scrubs and pulled out the small aerosol can of hospital-grade disinfectant I always carried.
I sprayed the harsh, stinging chemical directly into the arrogant doctor's face with maximum force.
Dr. Evans screamed in agonizing pain, dropping the lethal syringe as he frantically clawed at his burning eyes.
The glass syringe shattered against the metal floor, spilling the milky poison uselessly over the sterile tiles.
I aggressively shoved the blinded doctor out into the ninth-floor hallway just as the two armed assassins recovered from their fall.
I slammed my fist into the lobby button, and the heavy steel doors slid shut mere inches from a hail of suppressed gunfire.
The elevator rapidly descended toward the subterranean parking garage, leaving our attackers trapped on the upper floor.
Owen slid slowly down the metal wall, his breathing ragged and shallow as the immense physical exertion finally caught up with him.
"You have surprisingly good instincts for a housekeeper, Clara."
He offered me a weak, strained smile, acknowledging the fact that I had just saved his life for the third time tonight.
When the doors finally chimed open in the freezing, dimly lit basement level, I helped him back onto his feet.
The garage was a massive maze of concrete pillars and luxury vehicles belonging to the elite surgical staff.
Owen immediately spotted a sleek, black medical transport SUV parked discreetly near the loading docks with the keys left inside the ignition.
We hurried toward the heavy vehicle, constantly checking the dark shadows for any lingering threats.
I opened the passenger door and helped Owen climb onto the leather seat before rushing around to the driver's side.
As I slid behind the steering wheel, my laminated hospital ID badge violently snapped off my scrubs and fell onto the center console.
Owen picked up the plastic card with trembling fingers, his eyes immediately locking onto my full legal name printed in bold black letters.
The warm gratitude in his dark eyes instantly vanished, completely replaced by a chilling, murderous absolute suspicion.
"Clara Moretti," he read aloud, his voice dropping into a deadly, menacing register.
May you like
He slowly turned his head to look directly into my eyes, pulling the heavy pistol he had taken from the unconscious guard.
"Your father is the exact man who sold out my empire three years ago."
