400 Of The Cruel Mafia Boss’s Men Surrounded The Hospital—When He Found Out What Her Stepfather Did

400 Of The Cruel Mafia Boss’s Men Surrounded The Hospital—When He Found Out What Her Stepfather Did

The fluorescent lights of Mercy General Hospital cast harsh shadows across Scarlett's bruised face as she lay motionless in the hospital bed, machines beeping steadily around her like a mechanical heartbeat counting down to something inevitable. Her stepfather Thomas had unleashed his worst this time, four broken ribs, a severe concussion, internal bleeding, a fractured left wrist, and cigarette burns scattered across her arms like constellations of cruelty, and as she drifted between consciousness and darkness, she could hear the nurses whispering about the mysterious man who called every thirty minutes demanding updates, his voice carrying an authority that made even seasoned medical professionals tremble. She didn't know that Vincent Moretti had already mobilized his entire organization, four hundred of his most trusted soldiers receiving orders through encrypted channels while he stood in his penthouse office, staring out at Boston, the city that bowed to his will with nothing more than a whisper of his name. The call had come at midnight, his informant at the hospital breathless with fear as she described the condition of the woman Vincent had been quietly protecting for eight months, the woman who didn't even know she had captured the attention of the most dangerous man on the entire Eastern Seaboard. The irony wasn't lost on him that he had spent weeks orchestrating ways to approach her naturally, to win her trust without revealing the darkness that followed him like a second skin, only to discover that the real monster in her life had been hiding in plain sight behind the facade of a respectable accountant and loving stepfather. Thomas Webb's background check had come back pristine, no criminal record, no outstanding debts, no red flags that would have marked him as a threat, but Vincent should have looked deeper, should have seen past the suburban disguise to the twisted soul that had been systematically destroying Scarlett for fifteen years, ever since her mother died and left her defenseless at the age of twelve. He had first noticed her eight months ago at the coffee shop she managed downtown, a small place called Morning Bloom where she poured her exhaustion into perfect lattes and genuine smiles, drawn initially by the warmth in her eyes despite the sadness that clung to her like a permanent shadow. Day after day, he had found excuses to stop by under the name Marcus, ordering black coffees he barely touched just to hear her laugh, to watch the way she handled difficult customers with a grace that seemed almost supernatural, to study the subtle way she flinched whenever someone raised their voice too quickly or moved their hands too suddenly.

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