Six nurses had quit in five weeks because of the man I was being paid $10,000 a week to keep alive. One fled his mansion sobbing so hard she left her winter coat behind, another threatened to sue, and now I was walking straight into his bedroom knowing only one thing: Liam Mercer supposedly ruled half the city, but he couldn’t even walk himself to the bathroom.

Friday night arrived with the heavy, rhythmic thrum of rain beating against the slate roof of the Mercer estate.

The clock on the mantelpiece chimed midnight.

Right on the twelfth stroke, three heavy knocks sounded at the bedroom door. Leo stepped into the room, holding a thick, unsealed manila envelope in his leather-gloved hand. He smelled of rain, tobacco, and gun oil. His dark eyes flicked from Liam—who was sleeping under the influence of a mild sedative I had administered two hours prior—to me, sitting in the corner leather chair with my paperback book.

"Friday," Leo said simply, stepping over to the table and setting the envelope down.

I set my book aside, stood up, and picked up the envelope. I opened the flap and peeked inside. Ten stacks of crisp, hundred-dollar bills, bound in paper bands. Ten thousand dollars. More money than my father had made in half a year at the steel mill.

"Is it all there?" Leo asked, his arms crossed over his massive chest.

"I trust your count, Leo," I said softly, tucking the envelope into my medical bag. "I need to make a phone call to County General. To verify my brother's treatment payment."

Leo hesitated, his broken nose shifting as he frowned. "Mr. Mercer’s rule is strict. No outside communication. No phones."

"My brother Tommy is seven years old, Leo," I said, stepping right up to the mountain of a man, my voice dropping into a sharp, uncompromising blade. "He has stage-three acute lymphoblastic leukemia. That money is paying for a T-cell infusion protocol that starts at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. If I don't confirm the wire transfer with his pediatric oncologist, I leave this house tonight. And you can find nurse number thirteen."

Leo stared down at me for five long seconds. A slow, faint tug touched the corner of his scarred mouth.

"Follow me," he grunted.

He led me down the dim, oak-paneled hallway to a secure study on the second floor. He unlocked a heavy steel door, stepped inside, and pointed to a satellite landline resting on a heavy mahogany desk.

"Three minutes," Leo said, stepping outside and closing the door to give me privacy.

My hands shook as I dialed the direct line to the oncology floor at County General.

"Pediatric Oncology, Dr. Vance speaking," the familiar, exhausted voice of Tommy's doctor answered.

"Dr. Vance, it's Clara," I breathed, holding the receiver tight against my ear. "I have the funds. Ten thousand dollars. I'm wiring it through an offshore clearing house right now. Did the lab prep the T-cells?"

"Clara?" Dr. Vance sounded stunned. "Where on earth did you get ten thousand dollars in four days?"

"It doesn't matter," I said, a tear slipping down my cheek. "Just tell me Tommy is okay."

"He's hanging in there, Clara," Dr. Vance said, his tone softening. "He's weak, his blood counts are low, but he's fighting. If this wire clears by six A.M., we begin the prep protocol immediately."

"It will clear," I promised. "Tell him I love him. Tell him I'm coming to see him as soon as I can."

I hung up the phone, wiped my eyes, and took a deep breath to pull my composure back together. I couldn't afford weakness. Not here. Not in a house built on blood and secrecy.

As I opened the study door to return to the hallway, I heard muffled voices echoing from the lower floor near the grand foyer.

I paused, pressing myself into the shadow of a marble archway.

Leo was standing near the front entrance, talking to a tall man dressed in an expensive cashmere overcoat. The man had sleek gray hair, sharp facial features, and carried a gold-topped cane. Two armed bodyguards stood behind him.

"He's still unconscious, Marcus," Leo was saying, his voice tight, defensive. "The new nurse is keeping him stable, but he isn't fit to see anyone."

Marcus. Marcus Kane. The name sent an icy spike of fear through my chest. During my years working in the emergency department at County General, I had heard the paramedics whisper that name. Marcus Kane was Liam Mercer's senior lieutenant—the man who controlled the docks and the gambling dens in the South Ward, and the primary rival who had been angling to take over the syndicate ever since Liam was ambushed.

"I don't need him to be fit, Leo," Marcus Kane said, his voice smooth, cold, and dripping with fake concern. "The family needs leadership. The commission is meeting on Monday. If Liam can't sign the territorial transfers, I will assume temporary control of the North Side operations."

"Liam hasn't authorized any transfer," Leo growled.

Marcus stepped closer to Leo, leaning on his cane, a thin, wolfish smile touching his lips. "Liam is a cripple sitting in a dark room waiting to die, Leo. Don't go down with a sinking ship. Tell the nurse to step back. Let nature take its course. There's five million dollars waiting for you in a Cayman account the moment Liam stops breathing."

My heart slammed against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Leo didn't answer immediately. He stood there, his massive shoulders rigid, staring at Marcus Kane in the dim light of the foyer.

"Get out of this house, Marcus," Leo finally grunted, his hand resting on the butt of his sidearm. "Until Mr. Mercer tells me otherwise, I take my orders from him."

Marcus Kane’s smile faded into a mask of pure, lethal hatred. "Have it your way, Leo. But remember... doors open from the inside."

Kane turned and walked out into the rain, his bodyguards following close behind.

I backed away into the darkness of the corridor, my mind racing. Marcus Kane wasn't just waiting for Liam to die. He was actively planning to take over the empire—and he had just tried to bribe Leo to let Liam die in that bed.

I hurried back up the grand staircase, my boots clicking softly against the runner, and slipped back into Liam’s bedroom.

I locked the heavy door behind me, leaning my back against the wood, my breathing shallow and fast.

From the bed, a dark voice rasped through the shadows.

"You're shaking, nurse."

I looked over. Liam was awake, sitting up against his pillows, his pale blue eyes tracking my every movement in the dim lamp light.

"Marcus Kane was downstairs," I whispered, stepping toward the bed. "He tried to bribe Leo to let you die."

Liam didn't look surprised. A cold, terrifying smile spread across his bruised, handsome face.

"Marcus always was impatient," Liam whispered softly, his fingers tightening around the edge of his blanket. "Come here, Clara."

I walked over to the side of his bed.

"He thinks I'm finished," Liam said, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made the breath catch in my throat. "He thinks because my body is broken, my mind is gone. He's going to come for this house, Clara. Soon."