Chapter 3 - The Debt of a Boss
By 4:00 AM, the surgery was over.
Dr. Vance walked out of the operating suite, pulling his surgical cap off and wiping sweat from his forehead. He looked exhausted.
“She’s going to make it, Dominic,” Vance sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “The bone fracture is clean, and we managed to stop the internal bleeding from the rib graze. She’s tough. She has the constitution of someone who has lived hard and fought for every breath.”
Dominic let out a slow, heavy breath that felt like it had been trapped in his lungs for hours. “Can I see her?”
“She’s resting under heavy sedation. She won’t wake up for a few hours.”
Dominic walked into the private recovery room. Lily lay in the adjustable hospital bed, her face as pale as the crisp white sheets, a nasal cannula resting under her nose, her left shoulder heavily bandaged.
He pulled a metal chair close to the bedside and sat down.
For a long time, he just watched her breathe. He thought about her life—the laundromat mornings, the repair shop afternoons, the hospital paperwork for her mother, and her brother Danny, paralyzed from the waist down in a cramped apartment in Queens. He knew every detail now. Within three hours of the shooting, Dominic’s intelligence network had mapped out every single struggle Lily Chen had carried on her small shoulders.
The medical bills. The three hundred and fifty thousand for her mother’s chemo. The two hundred thousand for Danny’s experimental spinal surgery.
Lily had been drowning in debt just trying to keep her family alive, while men like him traded skyscrapers for breakfast.
The heavy mahogany door of the room clicked open softly. Victor stepped inside, holding a thick manila folder.
“Boss,” Victor whispered. “The Marcone family stash house in Long Island has been cleared out. Frankie Marcone sends his regards and asks for a sit-down.”
Dominic didn't look away from Lily. “Tell Frankie he can sit down six feet under. Burn the stash house to the foundation. Leave nothing.”
“Done,” Victor nodded. He laid the manila folder on the side table. “Also... I took the liberty of looking into the Chen family accounts, like you asked.”
Dominic finally looked up. “And?”
“The hospital in Manhattan called an hour ago. They were preparing to discharge her mother tomorrow because the insurance lapsed and the balance hasn't been paid. And her brother’s physical therapy center sent a final notice.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened. He picked up the folder, opened it, and stared at the staggering columns of debt that had crushed a twenty-eight-year-old girl who simply wanted to do the right thing.
“Write a check,” Dominic said quietly.
Victor raised an eyebrow. “For how much, boss?”
“Not a check,” Dominic corrected, closing the folder with a sharp snap. “Pay it all. Clear every single balance—the hospital, the therapy, the back rent on their apartment in Queens. And while you’re at it, transfer the title of the medical-grade rehabilitation clinic in Manhattan to Danny Chen’s name. Make sure he has the best doctors in the country, twenty-four hours a day, starting this morning.”
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Victor blinked, a rare look of surprise crossing his hardened face. “Boss, that’s easily a million-dollar package. The neighborhood is going to talk.”
“Let them talk,” Dominic said, standing up and towering over the small hospital bed. He reached down, gently pulling the blanket up over Lily’s uninjured shoulder with surprising tenderness. “Let all of Brooklyn whisper. They think I’m a monster who only deals in blood. It’s time they learned what the Valentine family does when someone saves our children.”
