Chapter 3 - The Name Hidden in the Records
The hospital badge was lying on the table.
My name was scratched into the back.
"Elena, you should have never accepted this job."
Massimo stared at it.
The woman beside him stopped breathing.
Then the security alarm stopped.
And everyone in the room realized the person who left it was still inside the mansion.
I had spent years working in hospitals, surrounded by emergencies.
I had seen families collapse in waiting rooms.
I had watched doctors deliver impossible news.
I had held the hands of strangers while they cried.
But nothing prepared me for standing in a billionaire's mansion at midnight, holding a badge with my own name carved into it.
My first instinct was simple.
Leave.
Walk out.
Call the agency.
Forget the fifty thousand dollars.
Forget my doctorate.
Forget everything.
But then I looked at Massimo.
And I noticed something that bothered me.
He wasn't surprised.
Not completely.
He looked angry.
He looked worried.
But underneath all of that was something else.
Recognition.
"You know who did this," I said.
Massimo didn't answer.
That was enough.
The security guard looked between us.
"Boss?"
Massimo grabbed the badge from the table.
His fingers moved over my name.
Carefully.
Like he was afraid touching it would confirm something.
"Everyone leaves this room."
The guard hesitated.
"Mr. Pascale—"
"Now."
The command was quiet.
But nobody questioned him.
Within seconds, the room emptied.
The woman who arrived with the envelope remained.
She crossed her arms.
"You can't hide her from this anymore."
Massimo looked at her.
"Her name was never supposed to appear."
I turned toward him.
"Never supposed to appear where?"
Silence.
That was becoming his favorite answer.
I hated it.
"Massimo."
He looked at me.
"Tell me the truth."
His expression hardened.
"You don't want the truth."
"I didn't ask what I want."
I stepped closer.
"I asked what happened."
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he looked at the wheelchair beneath him.
And I understood.
This wasn't about the accident.
Not completely.
This was about everything he had lost after it.
"My accident happened six months ago."
I waited.
"I was driving home."
The woman interrupted.
"You were not driving home."
Massimo's eyes turned cold.
"Not now."
She ignored him.
"You were meeting someone."
I looked at her.
"Who?"
Massimo didn't answer.
The woman did.
"His brother."
The room changed.
I had never seen Massimo react like that.
Not when she insulted him.
Not when she threatened him.
Not even when she mentioned the accident.
But when she mentioned his brother, something broke.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
"Your brother is dead?" I asked.
Massimo looked away.
"Yes."
The answer was immediate.
Too immediate.
The kind of answer people gave when they had repeated it hundreds of times.
The woman opened the envelope.
Inside were several documents.
She placed them on the table.
"His brother's name was Luca Pascale."
Massimo closed his eyes.
"Stop."
"He was investigating someone inside your organization."
"Stop."
"He found out someone close to you was selling information."
Massimo's hand tightened around the armrest of his wheelchair.
"And then he died."
The woman's voice became quieter.
"And two weeks later, you had your accident."
I stared at the papers.
The timeline was impossible to ignore.
Someone killed his brother.
Someone tried to kill him.
And somehow I had walked directly into the middle of it.
"I don't understand."
Massimo looked at me.
"You shouldn't have to."
"That isn't an answer."
His jaw tightened.
"You think this is a normal rehabilitation case."
"No."
I looked at the badge.
"I know it isn't."
The woman watched me carefully.
Then she said something that made my stomach drop.
"The accident wasn't random."
I looked at Massimo.
"Who did this?"
He didn't answer.
Because someone knocked.
Again.
Three slow knocks.
Everyone froze.
Massimo's expression changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
The woman whispered.
"No."
The door opened.
A man entered.
Older.
Late fifties.
Expensive suit.
Calm expression.
The kind of calm that came from knowing nobody in the room could challenge him.
Massimo stared at him.
"What are you doing here?"
The man smiled.
"I heard you had a new nurse."
His eyes moved toward me.
And immediately I understood.
He wasn't here to meet Massimo.
He was here to see me.
"Elena Marlow," he said.
I didn't respond.
He continued.
"Doctoral candidate. Emergency rehabilitation specialist. Excellent record."
My blood ran cold.
"How do you know that?"
He smiled.
"Because I know everything about the people who enter this house."
Massimo's voice became dangerous.
"Leave."
The man ignored him.
Instead, he walked closer to me.
"You should ask your employer why he chose you."
I frowned.
"What?"
The man looked at Massimo.
"Tell her."
Silence.
I looked between them.
"What is he talking about?"
Massimo looked away.
That hurt more than anything.
Because anger would have been easier.
Anger meant he was hiding something.
Silence meant he felt guilty.
"You didn't hire me because I was qualified."
The words left my mouth slowly.
Massimo didn't deny it.
The man smiled.
"There it is."
I felt my chest tighten.
"Why did you hire me?"
Massimo finally looked at me.
And for the first time since I met him, he looked completely exposed.
"I knew your father."
Everything stopped.
"My father?"
The man stepped back slightly.
"Interesting."
Massimo's eyes became darker.
"Enough."
But I couldn't move.
I couldn't hear anything except those words.
I knew your father.
My father had been dead for twelve years.
A normal man.
A respected physician.
A man who never had anything to do with criminals.
At least that was what I believed.
"What did my father have to do with you?"
Massimo didn't answer.
The man in the suit smiled.
"Maybe you should ask why your father's name appears in the same file as Luca Pascale's death."
My heart stopped.
"No."
It came out as a whisper.
Impossible.
My father couldn't be part of this.
He couldn't.
The man reached into his pocket and placed a small folder on the table.
"Open it."
I stared at it.
Massimo said my name.
"Elena."
I looked at him.
His expression was different.
Not the cold Mafia boss.
Not the angry patient.
A man who was afraid.
"Don't open that."
The warning made everything worse.
Because now I knew.
Whatever was inside that folder mattered.
I reached toward it.
The moment my fingers touched the cover, the lights in the mansion suddenly went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Someone moved.
A chair crashed.
A gun was pulled.
Then a voice whispered from somewhere behind me.
"She finally knows."
I froze.
Because the voice wasn't unfamiliar.
It was someone who had been in the house since I arrived.
And then the emergency lights turned on.
May you like
The folder was gone.
And Massimo was staring at the person standing behind me...
