Chapter 4 - INSIDE THE MUTE CAGE
On the third floor, the master medical suite was locked from the inside.
Lorenzo lay beneath the white linens, his eyes closed, his body perfectly motionless. To the two high-priced cardiologists standing at the foot of his bed, he looked identical to how he had appeared for seven weeks.
Inside his mind, however, a storm was roaring.
I am here, Lorenzo was screaming in his thoughts, pushing every ounce of his mental willpower toward his hands, his mouth, his vocal cords. Move! Open your eyes!
Nothing happened. His body remained an unyielding prison of stone.
For forty-nine long days, Lorenzo had suffered in the dark. He had listened as his doctors spoke quietly about brain death. He had listened as his brother Victor stood over his bed, whispering venomous boasts about taking over his empire, seizing his shipping routes, and eliminating Lorenzo’s loyal captains one by one.
Victor had even admitted, in a quiet whisper right against Lorenzo’s ear three weeks ago, that he was the one who had tipped off the rival Genovese family about the meeting at the docks.
Lorenzo had felt pure, burning hatred for weeks. He had tried to die. He had tried to give up.
Until yesterday.
Until a small, soft hand had touched his thumb, and a sweet, innocent voice had sung a song about sunshine in a room filled with shadows.
That tiny hand had given him a thread of sanity to hold onto. For the first time in seven weeks, the dark fog in his brain had cleared.
The bedroom door clicked open.
Footsteps approached the bed—heavy, expensive leather shoes.
"Leave us," Victor Moretti’s cold voice commanded the two cardiologists.
The doctors gathered their equipment and promptly exited the room, closing the heavy oak doors behind them.
Victor stood beside Lorenzo’s bed. He adjusted his silk tie, pulling a small glass vial and a hypodermic syringe from his inner coat pocket.
"You always were stubborn, brother," Victor spoke smoothly, looking down at Lorenzo’s still face. "Forty-nine days of total brain flatline, and suddenly a housekeeper’s brat sings a nursery rhyme and your heart rate jumps to eighty?"
Lorenzo felt a surge of cold rage. Touch that child, Victor, and I will tear your heart out with my bare hands.
"Nurse Vance showed me the EEG readouts from yesterday," Victor continued, drawing clear liquid from the vial into the syringe. "Alpha waves. Auditory processing. You can hear me right now, can't you, Lorenzo?"
Victor leaned down, his face inches from Lorenzo’s ear, his voice dripping with venomous pleasure.
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"It doesn't matter if you can hear me," Victor whispered. "In ten minutes, this potassium compound will cause a sudden, unexplainable cardiac arrest. The doctors will call it a tragic complication of your brain trauma. And your empire... will finally be mine."
Victor reached down, taking Lorenzo’s IV line, and aligned the needle with the rubber injection port.
