Chapter 5 - The Weight of Gold
At 9:00 AM, I woke up in the armchair, my neck stiff and my body aching.
The morning sun streamed through the open blinds, illuminating the quiet room. On the bed, Liam was awake. He was pale, exhausted, and visibly weak, but his eyes were clear, sharp, and entirely focused on me.
I stood up, stretched my tired back, and walked over to check his vitals.
"Temperature is 98.6," I reported, checking the IV drip rate. "Blood pressure is 115/75. The drain is working properly. You survived the night, Mercer."
Liam didn't answer immediately. His eyes traveled over my rumpled scrubs, the dark circles beneath my eyes, and the small smear of dried blood on my wrist.
"Leo told me what you did," he said, his gravelly voice remarkably steady. "He said you opened the wound yourself while Viktor had a gun pointed at your head."
"Viktor didn't have the gun out, but he looked like he wanted to," I said, pulling out a wet cloth to wipe down his face and neck. "Hold still."
As I wiped his forehead, Liam reached up and gently closed his hand over mine, stopping the movement of the cloth.
"Why didn't you let them take me to the hospital, Clara?" he asked softly. "If I died, it wouldn't have been your fault. You still would have gotten paid for the four days."
I looked down at him, feeling the steady pulse beneath his skin. "I'm not in the business of letting my patients die when I have the power to save them. And Tommy needs a living benefactor, not a ghost."
Liam released my hand and pointed toward the nightstand.
A thick, dark leather briefcase was sitting beside the lamp.
"Open it," Liam said.
I hesitated, then walked over and flipped the two brass latches. The lid popped open.
Inside, stacked in neat, banded rows, were crisp hundred-dollar bills. Hundreds of them.
"That's fifty thousand dollars," Liam said calmly. "Ten thousand for this week, and a forty-thousand-dollar bonus for keeping my heart beating through the night."
My heart stopped. I stared at the green paper, my throat tightening until I could barely draw breath. Fifty thousand dollars. That was more than I made in an entire year at the county hospital. That was enough to pay for Tommy’s preliminary treatments, his specialized lab tests, and his flight to Switzerland.
"I can't... I can't take this much," I whispered, my eyes stinging with sudden, hot tears.
"You earned it," Liam said, his voice carrying an unquestionable authority. "Take it, Clara. Wire it to your brother's clinic today. And then pack your bags."
I froze, turning to face him. "What?"
May you like
Liam looked away from me, staring out the window at the sunny gardens below. "The Moretti family knows where I am. The attack on my dock operations yesterday was a distraction to test my security perimeter. This house isn't safe anymore. Within forty-eight hours, there will be blood on these floors."
He turned back to look at me, his icy eyes cold and uncompromising. "You saved my life. Now get out before my world destroys yours."
