Chapter 8 - THE RAT IN THE HOUSE
The news of Dr. Thorne and Dr. Vance's federal arrests dominated Chicago headlines for forty-eight hours. Nora Bennett’s name was completely cleared, and Cook County Trauma publicly invited her to return as a senior attending physician with a massive signing bonus.
Yet Nora did not return to the hospital immediately. She returned to the Mercer estate. She had one final duty: to ensure Claire’s full recovery and to stand beside the man who had saved her life.
That night, a storm raged over Lake Forest. Thunder shook the heavy glass windows of the mansion.
In the private medical wing, Claire was walking unassisted, taking confident steps across the hardwood floor. Nora walked beside her, holding a stopwatch.
"Ten seconds faster than yesterday, Claire!" Nora cheered, offering her a glass of water. "Your motor cortex has completely rewired. You're fully recovered."
Claire smiled, taking a sip. "I owe you my life, Nora. And... I think my brother owes you his heart."
Nora flushed slightly, looking down at her clipboard. "Julian was just protecting a key witness."
"Julian doesn't go to medical board hearings for 'witnesses,' Nora," Claire said gently, touching Nora’s arm. "In thirty-six years, I have never seen him look at any woman the way he looks at you. You gave him hope in a world that usually destroys it."
Before Nora could answer, the lights in the estate suddenly flickered and died, plunging the mansion into absolute darkness.
The emergency red backup lights clicked on a second later, bathing the hallway in a eerie crimson glow.
An alarm blared across the estate's speaker system.
Code Red. Perimeter breach.
Nora’s medical instincts immediately kicked in. "Claire, stay in the panic room behind the wardrobe! Lock it from the inside!"
"Nora, no! Stay with me!" Claire pleaded.
"I have to find Leo!" Nora shouted, running out into the crimson-lit hallway toward the guest house connector.
As Nora rounded the grand staircase, she heard the loud crack of suppressed gunfire echoing from the lower floor.
She ducked behind a marble pillar, her heart pounding violently in her ears.
Down in the grand foyer, Julian stood near the entrance, flanked by Marco and three armed guards. Across the foyer stood a dozen armed men wearing dark tactical gear—led by none other than Dominic Mercer, Julian’s uncle.
"It's over, Julian!" Dominic shouted, holding a suppressed pistol. "The capos signed off on it! You've lost your mind over a woman! You brought federal scrutiny to our doorstep by destroying those doctors!"
"You poisoned my sister, Dominic," Julian said, his voice flat, emotionless, and filled with a cold, terrifying wrath. He didn't even draw his weapon; he simply stood there as if discussing the weather.
Dominic laughed hysterically. "Claire was collateral damage! She was soft, just like you! I put the ergotamine in her glass at L’Etoile, and that damn waitress ruined everything! But tonight, I fix my mistake. I take control of the family!"
Nora gasped from behind the pillar. It was Dominic. The rat in the house was his own uncle.
"You won't take anything, Dominic," Julian said softly.
"Shoot him!" Dominic screamed to his men.
Before Dominic's men could raise their weapons, red laser sights illuminated their chests from the upper balconies.
Over twenty of Julian’s elite, heavily armed security team appeared on the upper floor railings, their automatic rifles trained directly on Dominic’s mercenaries. Julian had known. He had set a trap, using himself as the bait.
Dominic’s men instantly dropped their weapons, raising their hands in surrender.
Dominic stared around in terror, realizing he had walked straight into his own execution. He panicked, turning his gun toward the staircase—where he spotted Nora peeking from behind the pillar.
"If I'm going down, I'm taking your doctor with me!" Dominic shrieked, aiming his weapon directly at Nora’s chest.
"NO!" Julian roared.
Without a second thought, Julian threw his own body across the foyer, drawing his custom firearm in mid-air.
A single shot echoed through the hall.
Dominic fell backward onto the marble floor, a bullet hole precisely between his eyes.
Nora closed her eyes, gasping for air as the sound rang out. When she opened them, Dominic lay motionless on the floor.
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Julian was standing near the foot of the stairs, his gun raised. But then, he stumbled, his left hand clutching his side as dark crimson blood began to pool through his white shirt. Dominic’s wild shot had hit him before he died.
"JULIAN!" Nora screamed, ignoring the lingering danger, and sprinted down the stairs toward him.
