Chapter 5 - The Rat in the Walls
The assassin, whose name was turned out to be Arthur Vance—a former paramedic who had been paid fifty thousand dollars by the Moretti family to slip a lethal dose of potassium chloride into Roman’s IV—was dragged into the private waiting room by Declan’s men.
Maggie stood in the doorway of Roman’s room, watching the interrogation with a cold, professional detachment. She had seen the damage that violence could do to a body, but she also knew that in Roman’s world, violence was the only language that kept the peace.
"Who gave you the schedule, Arthur?" Declan asked, his voice entirely devoid of emotion as he leaned over the bound man. "Who told you Roman would be at the Cicero warehouse?"
Arthur sobbed, his face bruised from his brief encounter with Maggie’s weight. "I don't know! I swear! I just got a call from a blocked number! They said... they said the nurse would be easy to bypass. They said she was just a fat, useless temp!"
Roman, who was sitting up in bed with his chest bare, his scars on full display in the afternoon light, let out a cold, sharp laugh.
"A fat, useless temp," Roman repeated, his gray eyes shifting to Maggie, who was standing quietly by the wall. "It seems your employers have very poor intelligence, Arthur. That 'temp' just broke your ribs and saved my life."
He looked at Declan. "Find out who made that call. Use whatever resources you need. And Declan... call Celeste Burke."
Maggie frowned. "Celeste? Why?"
"Because," Roman said, his voice dropping into a dark, purring register, "she was the one who assigned you to my room. She was the one who tried to send you home this morning. And she’s the only person in this hospital who had access to my private admission record before the news became public."
Within twenty minutes, Celeste Burke was escorted into the room by two of Declan’s guards.
She no longer looked like the confident, arrogant charge nurse who had spent years tormenting Maggie. Her hair was messy, her lab coat was torn at the sleeve, and her eyes were wide with a terror so deep she could barely stand.
"Mr. Calder... please," Celeste sobbed, falling to her knees in front of the bed. "I didn't know! I didn't know they were going to try to kill you! They just... they just offered me fifty thousand dollars to tell them who was assigned to your room! They said they just wanted to talk to you!"
"You sold my life for fifty thousand dollars, Celeste?" Roman asked, his voice completely calm—which Maggie had learned was the most dangerous thing about him.
"I... I needed the money!" Celeste cried, her eyes darting to Maggie, pleadingly. "Maggie! Please! Tell him! We’ve worked together for five years! You know me! I’m not a bad person!"
Maggie looked down at the woman who had spent those five years making her life a living hell—the woman who had mocked her size, assigned her the heaviest shifts, and tried to use her as a human shield against a dangerous patient.
There was no anger in Maggie’s heart. Only a deep, clean pity.
"You are a nurse, Celeste," Maggie said softly. "Our first duty is to do no harm. You violated that duty the moment you sold a patient's safety for a check. You aren't a nurse anymore. You’re just a criminal."
"Maggie, please!"
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"Take her away, Declan," Roman said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. "Hand her over to the police. I want her license revoked, her bank accounts seized, and her name dragged through every paper in this state. Let her spend the next ten years in a state penitentiary thinking about what she sold."
Celeste was dragged out of the room, her screams echoing down the carpeted hallway until the heavy oak doors closed, cutting off her voice forever.
