Chapter 6 - The Doctor Who SmiledDr. Helena Varela arrived at the penthouse at 3:00 p.m. wearing cream silk, pearl earrings, and the calm smile of a woman who had built her career telling powerful families what they wanted to hear.
She expected chaos.
She found tea.
Matteo had ordered the formal sitting room prepared. Not the office. Not the nursery. Not the blue room.
He sat in a leather chair near the window, dressed again in charcoal, every inch the untouchable head of the DeLuca empire. Rocco stood behind him. Camryn sat on the sofa with Leo beside her, the boy’s hand tucked inside hers.
Dr. Varela’s eyes flicked to Camryn.
Too quick.
But Camryn saw it.
Recognition? Surprise? Fear?
The doctor smiled. “Mr. DeLuca. I came as soon as I received your message. I understand Leo had a verbal breakthrough.”
Matteo’s voice was smooth. “Several.”
“How wonderful.” She approached Leo slowly. “Hello, Leo.”
Leo pressed into Camryn’s side.
“Bad lady,” he whispered.
Dr. Varela stopped.
Only half a second.
Then she smiled again.
“Children sometimes attach fear to familiar faces after trauma,” she said. “It does not always mean—”
“Sit,” Matteo said.
The doctor sat.
Camryn watched her hands.
Perfect manicure. No shaking.
Matteo picked up a folder from the table and placed it on his knee.
“My son spoke about a blue door.”
Dr. Varela’s expression remained professional. “Symbolic language is common in traumatic recovery.”
“He spoke about a bad song.”
“Associative memory.”
“He identified you.”
“A child repeating adult influence is not identification.”
Camryn’s stomach tightened.
There it was.
The groundwork.
Make Leo unreliable.
Make Camryn manipulative.
Make Matteo doubt the miracle before it became evidence.
Matteo leaned back. “You believe someone influenced him?”
Dr. Varela glanced at Camryn.
“I believe sudden changes in a child’s environment can produce suggestibility.”
Camryn almost laughed.
Leo had thrown a wooden train at her less than twenty-four hours earlier. Now she was being accused of coaching him.
Matteo’s face did not change. “Miss Jenkins has been in this house one day.”
“Attachment can form quickly with emotionally unstable children.”
Camryn felt Leo flinch at the word unstable.
She squeezed his hand.
Matteo noticed.
So did the doctor.
Dr. Varela continued, “With respect, Mr. DeLuca, Leo requires clinical boundaries. A maid with no training should not be allowed to become his emotional regulator.”
Camryn looked down.
The words hit exactly where they were meant to.
No training.
Maid.
Unqualified.
Poor.
Matteo opened the folder.
“What role did you play in my wife’s life before her death?”
For the first time, Dr. Varela’s smile faded.
“I’m sorry?”
“You knew Isabella.”
“Many people knew your wife.”
“You were photographed with her and Vincent near the charity garage three days before the explosion.”
Dr. Varela blinked.
Rocco placed the photograph on the table.
The doctor looked at it, then sighed gently, as if disappointed by an unreasonable patient.
“Isabella occasionally consulted me about postpartum anxiety.”
Matteo’s eyes darkened. “You never mentioned this.”
“Confidentiality.”
“My wife died.”
“Confidentiality survives death.”
Camryn felt something cold move through the room.
Dr. Varela was good.
Too good.
Matteo picked up the recorder.
He did not play it.
He simply watched her face.
“Isabella left a message.”
Dr. Varela went still.
There.
A crack.
Tiny.
But real.
Matteo saw it too.
“What did she say?” the doctor asked.
“Enough.”
Her hands folded tighter.
“Mr. DeLuca,” she said carefully, “grief can make people search for enemies. It is easier than accepting accidents.”
Matteo leaned forward.
“My wife was murdered.”
Dr. Varela’s eyes moved to Rocco.
Then to the door.
Camryn’s pulse quickened.
The doctor was calculating exits.
Leo suddenly stood on the sofa.
“No shot,” he said.
Camryn turned to him. “What?”
Leo pointed at Dr. Varela. “No sleepy shot.”
The room went silent.
Matteo rose.
Dr. Varela’s face drained.
Camryn felt sick.
“Leo,” she whispered, “did someone give you a shot?”
The boy touched his upper arm.
“Bad lady. Sleepy. Mama knock.”
Matteo’s voice was barely human. “Explain.”
Dr. Varela stood. “This conversation is inappropriate and clinically damaging.”
Rocco blocked the door.
The doctor’s calm vanished.
“You cannot detain me.”
Matteo stepped toward her. “I can do many things.”
Camryn stood quickly, keeping Leo behind her.
“Matteo.”
He stopped, breathing hard.
She saw the war inside him. The old instinct. The violent one. The one Isabella had warned about. The one Vincent needed alive.
Dr. Varela watched too.
And smiled.
Barely.
She wanted him to become the monster.
Camryn understood.
“She wants you to hurt her,” Camryn said.
Matteo’s eyes snapped to Camryn.
“She wants proof that you’re dangerous,” Camryn continued. “She wants anything that makes Leo’s words disappear behind your reputation.”
Dr. Varela’s smile vanished.
Matteo looked at the doctor.
Then he stepped back.
“Rocco,” he said, voice controlled. “Call the attorneys. Then call the state medical board. Then call the district attorney through the clean channel.”
Rocco nodded.
Dr. Varela stared. “You think law protects men like you?”
“No,” Matteo said. “But today, it protects my son from men like me.”
For the first time, Dr. Varela looked afraid.
Leo peeked from behind Camryn’s leg.
The doctor’s eyes locked on him.
Her voice dropped.
“You were supposed to forget.”
Leo whimpered.
Camryn moved in front of him.
Matteo heard it.
Rocco heard it.
And the recording device hidden beneath the tea tray heard it too.
Dr. Varela realized too late.
May you like
Matteo picked up the small black recorder and held it where she could see.
Then he said, “Thank you, Doctor.”
