Chapter 6 - The Attack at the Clinic
Despite the failure at the Plaza, the remnant factions of the Ross family were desperate. Realizing they could not strike D’Angelo directly, they decided to target the one thing that mattered most to the maid who had destroyed them: her mother.
It was two o'clock on a stormy Tuesday afternoon.
Nancy sat in D’Angelo’s office at the estate, reviewing the new biometric security contracts for the shipping docks, when her phone rang.
It was the director of St. Jude’s Neurological Institute.
"Miss Penelope!" the director’s panicked voice came through the speaker over the sound of blaring emergency alarms. "We have a code red! A black van just breached our security gate! Armed men are inside the building—they are heading straight for your mother’s suite!"
Nancy’s heart stopped. Pure terror seized her chest. “MY MOTHER!”
She slammed the phone down and sprinted out of the office into the main hallway.
D’Angelo was walking out of the conference room with Marco. He saw the sheer panic on Nancy’s face and instantly caught her by the arms. “Nancy! What happened?!”
“It’s my mother!” Nancy gasped, tears spilling over her lashes. “Ross’s men... they’re at the clinic! They’re going to kill her!”
The temperature in the hallway plunged to absolute zero.
D’Angelo’s eyes turned into twin abysses of lethal, terrifying fury.
He didn't hesitate for a single microsecond. He turned to Marco. “GET THE CONVOY! EVERY MAN WE HAVE! NOW!”
Ten minutes later, three heavy black SUVs tore down the highway at over one hundred miles per hour, sirens blaring, cutting through the heavy rain.
Inside the lead vehicle, D’Angelo held a heavy assault rifle across his lap, his hand tightly holding Nancy’s cold, trembling hand.
“She’s going to be fine, Nancy,” D’Angelo growled, his voice a lethal promise. “I swear to you on my life, no one touches your mother.”
When they arrived at St. Jude’s, the front glass doors of the facility were shattered.
D’Angelo’s strike team breached the entrance like a hurricane. D’Angelo and Nancy sprinted up the grand staircase toward the fifth-floor executive wing.
Inside Eleanor Penelope’s room, two mercenaries were struggling with the private security guard D’Angelo had stationed outside the door. One of the mercenaries had a gun pointed directly at the frail woman sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed.
“DON’T MOVE!” the mercenary screamed as the door was kicked off its hinges.
BANG!
A single bullet tore through the air.
D’Angelo didn't drop to his knees; he fired with terrifying precision, hitting the mercenary directly between the eyes before the man could pull his trigger.
The second mercenary was tackled to the floor by Marco and neutralized instantly.
Nancy threw herself across the room, wrapping her arms around her sleeping mother, weeping uncontrollably. “Mom! Mom! Are you okay? Are you hurt?!”
Eleanor Penelope blinked her eyes open slowly, looking at her daughter with soft, confused warmth. “Nancy? Why are you crying, my sweet girl? Who is that handsome man at the door?”
Nancy looked back through her tears.
D’Angelo stood in the doorway, his weapon lowered, his breath coming in heavy ragged gasps. He looked at Nancy and her mother with an expression of intense, protective relief.
He walked over slowly, dropping to one knee beside the hospital bed. He reached out, gently touching the older woman’s hand.
“I am D’Angelo, Mrs. Penelope,” he said, his voice soft, respectful, and deeply tender. “I am the man who is going to protect your daughter for the rest of her life.”
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Eleanor smiled softly, patting his large hand. “You have kind eyes, young man. Keep her safe.”
“With my life, ma'am,” D'Angelo vowed quietly, looking up at Nancy with eyes filled with pure, unshakeable devotion.
