They forced a homeless woman to marry a Mafia boss who had been unconscious for eight months.

For the next four hours, the sterile ICU suite transformed into a quiet, tactical war room.

While Petrov guarded the outer hallway, oblivious to what was happening inside, Willa helped Everett begin his rapid physical rehabilitation. Using her advanced nursing knowledge, she performed deep tissue massages on his legs and arms, stimulating blood flow and breaking up eight months of muscle rigidity.

Everett was a man built of pure willpower. Despite the agony of blood rushing back into long-dormant nerves, he didn't make a single sound.

By 2:00 PM, he was sitting up on the edge of the bed, swinging his bare feet onto the floor.

"In the encyclopedia," Everett commanded softly, sweat glistening on his forehead as he flexed his fingers. "The book on the bottom shelf. Pull it out."

Willa went to the bookshelf, pulled out the heavy medical encyclopedia, and opened it. She pulled out her black leather notebook.

Everett looked at the book, then up at her. "Not the notebook. The spine lining. Press the red leather seal on the inside cover."

Willa pressed the hidden leather notch.

With a soft mechanical click, the thick spine of the encyclopedia popped open, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside lay a sleek black satellite smartphone, a encrypted security keycard, and a sleek, silver 9mm handgun with a custom silencer attached.

Willa gasped, stepping back.

Everett reached out, taking the gun with a smooth, practiced familiarity. He checked the magazine, chambered a round with a sharp, metallic clack, and engaged the safety, slipping it beneath his pillow.

"You knew about this?" Willa asked, staring at him in awe.

"I built this house," Everett said calmly, taking the satellite phone and punching in a twelve-digit encrypted code. He brought the phone to his ear.

The call connected on the second ring. A rough, heavily accented voice answered: "Kane Logistics Master Line."

"Viktor," Everett said, his voice quiet, cold, and absolute.

A long, suffocating pause stretched across the line. The sound of a chair crashing to the floor echoed from the phone speaker.

"Boss...?" Viktor’s voice quivered with utter disbelief. "My God... Sterling said you were brain-dead..."

"Sterling is a traitor," Everett stated flatly. "Assemble the elite guard. Fifty men, tactical gear, silent entry. Surround the lake estate by 1930 hours. Nobody leaves this property alive without my authorization."

"Understood, Boss!" Viktor shouted with fierce loyalty. "We’re on our way!"

Everett ended the call and placed the phone on the bed. He turned to Willa, looking at her with a depth of intensity that made her breath catch in her throat.

"You saved my life, Willa," he said softly. "You diluted the poison. You kept records. You protected me when I was helpless."