Chapter 5 - The Shadow Play
The game of shadows began.
Every morning, Dr. Hale would arrive, check Massimo's vitals, and hand him his medication—including the hidden white pill disguised among his vitamins.
Massimo would place the pills in his mouth, take a sip of water, and nod.
As soon as the doctor left the room, Massimo would spit the white pill into a handkerchief Carla had hidden under his pillow.
Carla took charge of all his food. She locked the pantry when she cooked and personally carried every tray to his room.
Within five days of stopping the poison, the fog in Massimo's mind lifted.
Within ten days, a sharp, agonizing pain shot through his lower back.
He had never been so happy to feel pain. It meant the nerves were alive. They were healing.
By the second week, while everyone else slept, Massimo began to move.
It started with a twitch of his big toe. Then, the ability to bend his knee.
He endured excruciating physical therapy in the dead of night, using his wheelchair to pull himself up.
Sweat poured down his face as he forced his atrophied muscles to bear his weight. He fell dozens of times, biting his lip until it bled to keep from crying out.
Carla was his only witness. She would sneak into his room at 2 AM to help him up, massage his cramped muscles, and clean the blood from his lips.
"You're doing it, boss," she whispered one night as he managed to stand for a full minute.
"We are doing it, Carla," Massimo corrected, breathing heavily. "You saved my life."
Meanwhile, Dean and Camille grew reckless in their confidence.
One evening, Carla was dusting the hallway outside Camille's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar.
She heard Dean's voice.
"Hale says his heart rate is dropping. Another week, maybe two, and the old man is history."
"Thank God," Camille sighed. "I can't stand playing the grieving fiancée anymore. The moment he's gone, we take the Swiss accounts."
"The family is already loyal to me," Dean scoffed. "Massimo is a ghost. I'm the future."
Carla pressed her phone against the crack in the door, recording every single word.
She brought the audio to Massimo that same night.
Massimo listened to the voices of his best friend and his fiancé laughing about his impending death.
His face was carved from stone. No tears. No rage. Just pure, absolute ice.
"Dean wants to throw a grand gala next Friday," Massimo said quietly. "A celebration of our family's strength. He plans to announce my formal retirement and his ascension to Don."
"What are you going to do?" Carla asked, terrified.
May you like
Massimo looked down at his legs. He slowly stood up from the wheelchair, his posture straightening to his full, imposing height.
"I'm going to attend my own funeral," he whispered. "And I'm going to bring them to theirs."
