Chapter 3: The Mafia’s Vengeance
The hospital corridors seemed narrower, the air thicker, as Dr. Miguel Ramirez walked to his office. The weight of the conversation with Clayton De Luca lingered heavily on his shoulders, and every step felt like it was dragging him deeper into a chasm of dread. The lights overhead flickered briefly, casting unsettling shadows on the walls, as if the very building could sense the storm brewing inside.
Aubree was waiting for him in their shared office, her face a mixture of concern and resolve. She was perched on the edge of the desk, her arms crossed, but as soon as she saw him, she uncrossed her arms and stood up straight, her eyes searching his for any sign of what had transpired.
"What did he say?" she asked quietly, though the tension in her voice was palpable.
Miguel closed the door behind him and leaned against it, taking a deep breath before answering.
"It’s worse than we thought," he said, his voice low and heavy with the gravity of the situation.
"Clayton… he blames us, Aubree. He thinks we let Emilio die."
Aubree’s face paled, her hands clenching at her sides.
"But we did everything we could. He was too far gone when he came to us. We couldn’t have saved him…"
"I know that," Miguel said, pushing off the door and crossing the room to her. He took her hands in his, squeezing them tightly as if grounding himself through her touch.
"But Clayton doesn’t see it that way. All he sees is that his son is dead, and we were the ones responsible for saving him."
Aubree swallowed hard, her heart racing as the implications of Miguel’s words sank in. "What did he say, exactly?"
Miguel hesitated for a moment, knowing the words would only make things more real, more terrifying.
"He said we would pay for Emilio’s death," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "He didn’t say how, but… we both know what he’s capable of."
Aubree’s breath hitched, and she pulled her hands from his, pacing the length of the room as she tried to process what this meant.
"This is bad, Miguel," she murmured, her mind racing. "Really bad. We’re talking about one of the most dangerous men in the city no, in the country. If he wants revenge…"
"I know," Miguel interrupted, his voice tense. "We need to be careful. We need to stay alert. But most importantly, we need to keep doing our jobs. We can’t let fear control us."
Aubree stopped pacing and looked at him, her expression a mixture of fear and determination. "How can we not be afraid, Miguel? This is Clayton De Luca. He has the power to ruin our lives, to destroy everything we’ve worked for. What if he".
A sharp knock on the door interrupted her, and they both froze, their eyes locking in shared trepidation. Miguel quickly moved to open the door, revealing Dr. Joseph Sinclair, the hospital’s chief of surgery, standing there with a grim expression.
"Dr. Sinclair," Miguel greeted, trying to keep his voice steady. "Is everything alright?"
Dr. Sinclair stepped into the office, closing the door behind him. His usual warm demeanor was gone, replaced by a stern, almost fearful expression. "I just received a call from the hospital board," he said without preamble. "They’ve been contacted by Clayton De Luca. He’s… not happy."
Miguel exchanged a quick glance with Aubree, his heart sinking further. "What did he say?"
Dr. Sinclair sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "He’s demanding an investigation into Emilio’s death, claiming medical negligence. He’s already involved his lawyers, and he’s threatening to pull funding from the hospital unless action is taken against you both."
Aubree’s stomach twisted at the news. "That’s absurd," she said, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and fear. "We did everything by the book. There was no negligence Emilio’s injuries were too severe to survive."
"I know that," Dr. Sinclair said, his voice softer, as if trying to reassure them.
"But Clayton De Luca is a powerful man. His threats carry weight. The board is under immense pressure. They’re considering a full investigation, and they might even suspend you both during the process."
Miguel felt a surge of frustration and helplessness.
"Suspend us? For what? Doing our jobs? We’re being punished because we couldn’t perform a miracle."
Dr. Sinclair nodded, a deep sadness in his eyes. "I’m sorry, Miguel, Aubree. I wish there was more I could do. But this is a political nightmare. The board is scared they don’t want to risk angering De Luca any further."
Aubree felt a cold sweat break out on her skin. "What do we do, then?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "If we’re suspended, if this investigation happens… what’s going to happen to us?"
Dr. Sinclair hesitated, looking between the two of them with a pained expression. "My advice… is to lay low. Don’t draw any more attention to yourselves. Cooperate with the investigation if it happens, but don’t fight back too hard. And for the love of God, stay safe. De Luca is a dangerous man, and when he’s grieving… he’s even more unpredictable."
Miguel clenched his fists, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a plan, any plan, to protect them from what felt like an inevitable disaster. "What about security?" he asked, his voice sharp with urgency. "Is there anything we can do to protect ourselves?"
Dr. Sinclair nodded, though his expression remained grim.
"I’ll see what I can do about increasing security around the hospital and your home. But be careful, both of you. If De Luca is truly set on revenge, there may be little anyone can do to stop him."
Miguel and Aubree exchanged a glance, both of them feeling the suffocating weight of the situation pressing down on them. This wasn’t just about their careers anymore this was about their lives.
"Thank you, Dr. Sinclair," Miguel said quietly. "We’ll be careful."
Dr. Sinclair gave them a sad, almost helpless smile.
"Take care of each other," he said before turning and leaving the office, closing the door softly behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Aubree sank into the nearest chair, her head in her hands. "What are we going to do, Miguel?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "How do we fight something like this?"
Miguel crossed the room to her, placing his hands on her shoulders in a gesture of comfort. "We’ll get through this," he said, though his voice was strained. "We have to."
Aubree looked up at him, tears glistening in her eyes.
"But how? Clayton De Luca isn’t going to stop until he’s destroyed us. And I’m scared, Miguel. I’m so scared."
Miguel knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his again.
"I know," he said softly, his heart breaking at the sight of her fear. "I’m scared too. But we’re in this together, Aubree. We’ve faced impossible situations before, and we’ve always come out the other side. This won’t be any different."
Aubree nodded, though her fear didn’t dissipate. "We need to be smart about this," she said, trying to focus on the practical side of things.
"If De Luca is planning something… we need to be ready."
"We’ll take precautions," Miguel agreed. "We’ll talk to the hospital’s legal team, make sure everything is in order. And I’ll start looking into personal security options for us. We won’t let him catch us off guard."
The minutes ticked by in tense silence as they both tried to come to terms with the gravity of their situation. The once-safe confines of the hospital now felt like a trap, every shadow a potential threat, every passerby a possible enemy. The tension was suffocating, a dark cloud hanging over them that refused to dissipate.
The sound of Miguel’s phone vibrating on the desk broke the silence, and he reached for it, glancing at the screen. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the number it was an unknown caller.
He hesitated for a moment, then answered. "Dr. Ramirez," he said cautiously.
"Miguel," came the voice on the other end, cold and familiar. It was Clayton De Luca.
Miguel felt a chill run down his spine. "Mr. De Luca," he responded, trying to keep his voice steady. "What can I do for you?"
"You know what this is about," Clayton said, his voice low and dangerous. "My son is dead, and it’s because of you."
"Mr. De Luca, I’m deeply sorry for your loss," Miguel said, choosing his words carefully. "But I assure you, we did everything in our power to save Emilio. His injuries were simply too severe."
"Spare me the excuses," Clayton snapped, his voice laced with venom.
"You’re going to pay for what you did. I don’t care about your apologies or your so called expertise. My son is dead, and that means someone has to suffer."