The child came through the hedge on a Tuesday afternoon like she had decided the gap was there specifically for her.

On Friday morning at precisely 8:00 AM, Dr. Paulson arrived at the estate as he had every week for twelve years.

He was a tall, thin man with silver hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and the polished, impeccably clean demeanor of a high-end private physician. He carried his leather medical kit into the study, smiling warmly as he prepared the syringe.

"Good morning, Luca," Paulson said smoothly, tapping the glass tube of clear liquid. "We're continuing the spinal anti-inflammatory regimen today. How are the spasms?"

"The spasms are gone, Doctor," Luca said from behind his desk.

"Wonderful. That means the nerve suppression is working to keep the pain manageable."

"It's working very well," Luca noted. "In fact, I had the serum analyzed by the Department of Pharmacology at Johns Hopkins last week."

Dr. Paulson froze. The syringe hovered an inch above the glass tray.

"What did you say?" Paulson whispered, his face draining of color.

Mateo stepped out from behind the heavy velvet curtains, locking the heavy oak door behind him with a loud CLICK.

Luca pushed a sheet of paper across the mahogany desk. "Thallium micro-doses mixed with a synthetic neuro-inhibitor. Clever, Doctor. Enough to prevent my motor neurons from firing, but small enough to avoid killing me outright. How much did Marcus pay you to keep me in this chair?"

Paulson dropped the syringe. It shattered against the hardwood floor, spilling the clear poison across the rug.

"Luca... listen to me!" Paulson stammered, falling to his knees, his hands trembling violently. "Marcus came to my office twelve years ago! He showed me photos of my daughter at her university in Boston! He told me if I didn't keep you paralyzed, he would have her thrown off a bridge!"

"You had a choice, Doctor," Luca said coldly. "You could have come to me. I would have protected your daughter."

"You were a mob boss!" Paulson cried out. "How was I supposed to trust a monster like you?!"

"Because I paid you to heal me," Luca snapped, his voice ringing like iron against stone. "Not to make me your prisoner."

Luca leaned back in his chair, looking down at the trembling physician.

"Here is what happens now, Dr. Paulson," Luca said. "You will continue to visit this house twice a week. You will call Marcus every Tuesday evening and report that my condition is deteriorating. You will tell him that my respiratory system is beginning to fail, and that I won't survive until the end of the month."