Chapter 4 - The Internal War
The Cassano family was not a monolith. Alessandro’s younger brother, Marco, was a man who saw Matteo’s survival as a threat. If the baby died, Alessandro would lose his primary focus. If the baby lived, the succession was solidified.
I saw Marco in the hospital hallway, his eyes flickering with a cold, calculated interest when he looked at me. He didn't see a nurse. He saw the person who had handed his brother a victory.
"You're the one who fixed the broken toy," Marco said, cornering me by the coffee machine. "My brother is a sentimental man. He thinks this makes you special."
"I’m just doing my job," I said, trying to move past him.
"Your job is to make sure the boy keeps breathing," he whispered, his hand clamping onto my arm. "But let’s be clear—if the 'plasticizer' problem returns, or if something else happens, I don't want to hear about 'medical intuition.' I want results that align with the family's best interests."
I felt the ice of his threat. He wasn't talking about medicine. He was talking about murder.
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That night, I didn't go to the hotel. I stayed in the hospital, sleeping in the breakroom. I knew I was in the middle of a war, and I was the only person who knew the truth about the "accident" that had nearly killed Matteo.
I checked the records again. It wasn't just the tubing. The bypass kit had been tampered with. Someone had switched the labels.
