Chapter 3 - THE DOCTOR'S VERDICT
Fifteen minutes later, the screech of tires on gravel announced Dr. Vance's arrival. Adrien met him at the cottage door before he could knock, guiding the older, silver-haired physician into the stifling bedroom.
Vance didn't waste time with pleasantries. He dropped his heavy leather medical bag onto the floor, snapped on a pair of latex gloves, and immediately went to work on Clara. For twenty minutes, the small room was filled only with the rustle of medical packaging, the click of instruments, and Vance's low, professional murmurs.
Adrien stood near the door, his arms crossed over his chest, watching. Lily had gravitated toward him, sensing somehow that the tall, terrifying man in the dark suit was the only barrier between her and whatever bad things were happening. Without realizing what he was doing, Adrien reached down and lifted the three-year-old, setting her securely on the wooden counter near the sink away from the medical chaos, keeping her small body shielded from the worst of the sight.
She didn't cry. She just watched Vance work, her small fingers nervously twisting the ear of her teddy bear.
Finally, Vance straightened up, letting out a long breath. He pulled off his gloves and tossed them into a biohazard pouch.
"Well?" Adrien asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"She's lucky you came back early, Mr. Romano," Vance said, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. "Severe acute bronchitis that has tipped over into bacterial pneumonia. Her lungs are full of fluid. If she had gone another twenty-four hours without treatment, her organs would have begun to shut down from the septic shock."
Adrien's jaw tightened. "Can you save her?"
"Yes, but she needs intensive care, IV antibiotics, and round-the-clock monitoring for at least forty-eight hours," Vance said, eyeing Adrien with a mixture of professional detachment and mild curiosity. "Keeping her in this damp, unheated cottage is a death sentence. She needs to be moved to a sterile environment. A proper medical bed."
"Move her to the main house," Adrien said instantly.
Vance paused, looking surprised. "The main house? Mr. Romano, your security protocols—"
"I am the security protocol, Viktor," Adrien cut him off, his voice dropping an octave. "Put her in the west wing guest suite. The one next to my study. Get an infusion started now. I want a private nurse brought in by sunrise, and I want a full report on why no one on my estate management team reported that one of my staff was incapacitated."
Vance nodded briskly. "I'll coordinate with the transport team. It'll take four men to move her safely without dislodging the IV line."
"They won't be needed," Adrien said.
May you like
Before Vance could protest, Adrien walked over to the cot, slipped his strong arms beneath Clara's burning, fragile body, and lifted her effortlessly. She moaned softly in her delirium, her head resting against his shoulder, leaving a smear of cold sweat on his custom-tailored shirt. He didn't flinch. He carried her out of the cottage, past the dark rose gardens, and straight through the side door of the mansion, heading up the grand marble staircase as if she weighed no more than a feather.
Lily scrambled down from the counter and trotted behind them, clutching her bear, her small bare feet padding softly against the cold marble floor.
