Chapter 12
Lucien
"Sixty percent." I shoved the glass back across the table. "Red Hook warehouses. I want sixty percent."
Carlo's cane hit the thick carpet with a thud.
"Forty." His face darkened as he spoke slowly. "Lucien, my people maintain that line."
"Your people let the customs dogs catch a scent last month."
"That was an accident."
"Two accidents in a row—that's called stupid."
"Even your father wouldn't have spoken to me like this!" Carlo slammed the table, his face turning purple.
The same tired old threat.
"My father's dead." I straightened slowly in my seat. "The man sitting across from you making the rules now—that's me."
Carlo's jaw clenched tight. Just as the tension peaked, a sharp, piercing scream cut through from outside the study.
I recognized that voice instantly.
"Serena—" Carlo and I both shot to our feet.
I yanked the door open first and charged into the hallway, shoving through the panicked, retreating crowd in the foyer, crossing to the main hall in a few strides.
Shattered crystal and spilled wine and champagne covered the floor. Serena was curled in Veronica's arms, her ivory dress soaked with blood, her whole body convulsing violently in the pool of broken glass, her face ashen.
"Move." I strode over quickly.
Veronica grabbed my sleeve, screaming. "Lucien! Elora pushed Serena! We all saw it!"
"Lucien, I didn't push her..." From a distance, Elora's trembling voice reached me. She stood there shaking all over, eyes red. "Lucien, listen to me, she—"
"It was you!" Camilla pointed at her, screaming. "Everyone here can testify!"
Instinctively, I glanced toward Rocco in the distance. His face was grim. Through the chaotic crowd, he gave me a slight shake of his head.
Looking at Serena in the pool of blood, her painful convulsions and the accusations from onlookers made me lose all reason in an instant.
Rage flooded my brain. I didn't know what I was thinking in that second—I only remember reaching out and violently shoving aside whoever was in front of me.
By the time I came to my senses, I'd already thrown Elora hard onto the broken glass.
I bent down and scooped Serena up. Her head lolled weakly against my shoulder, her faint breathing ready to stop at any moment. My heart jumped into my throat.
"Enzo! Car! Have Harrison wait at the private hospital on East 77th Street! Now!"
Enzo knocked through several guests and rushed over. Seeing the bloodied figure in my arms, his face went white. "Boss—"
"Go!"
I held Serena and charged toward the exit. Passing Elora, a server was fumbling to help her up. She kept her head down, shoulders shaking violently. My mind was full of Serena's faint breathing. I pulled my gaze away, didn't spare even half a second, and rushed straight out the door.
In the car, after the emergency injection, Serena's breathing finally eased somewhat. Her lashes trembled slightly, but her eyelids didn't open.
"Lucien..."
"Don't talk."
"It hurts..."
"Fifteen minutes." I pressed her shoulder. "Fifteen minutes. Hold on."
She weakly clutched the hem of my shirt. Looking at her pale face, my chest felt crushed by a boulder. Even the air entering my lungs felt suffocating.
Serena was Carlo's only daughter. I despised Carlo's manipulative, exploitative attitude, but when it came to Serena, I could never harden my heart.
Years ago, though Carlo saved my father, Father still died soon after from his injuries. Mother developed severe depression and shut herself in her room all day. Until Carlo sent Serena to the estate.
She stayed at the manor for two summers total.
She'd just been diagnosed with congenital heart disease then, pitifully thin, yet every day she found ways to make Mother happy, forcibly pulling her out of the shadow of widowhood.
From then on, I acknowledged this sister in my heart.
I would protect her, keep her safe for life—that was the Genovese responsibility.
I yanked at my tie irritably, still feeling suffocated. Finally pulled the whole thing off and threw it on the seat, then undid the top two buttons of my shirt.
11:40 AM. I rushed through the emergency entrance holding Serena. Two nurses immediately pushed her onto a gurney. The ER doors slammed shut in my face.
"Boss, sit down for a bit," Enzo said quietly.
"Go move the car to the side entrance."
"Already done."
"Then go watch the hallway."
"Rocco's watching."
"Enzo." I shot him a cold look.
"...I'll go now." Enzo pulled his neck in and scurried off.
The moment he left, the elevator dinged open. Natalie stepped out.
She hadn't even put her coat on properly, walking quickly, heading straight for me.
"How's Serena?"
"In emergency."
"What did the doctor say?"
"Not out yet."
Natalie stopped in front of me, expression serious.
"You get to the bottom of this?"
"Not yet."
Natalie leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
"Lucien, you threw Elora into broken glass?"
My jaw tightened. "Who told you?"
"You think out of a hundred people at that party tonight, not one would call me?" Natalie opened her eyes. "Mr. Genovese made a scene at the party, publicly threw his own wife into broken glass, then carried off the Casalesi girl and rode into the sunset."
"Serena had a heart attack." I gritted my teeth. "Everyone there said Elora pushed her!"
"I know." Natalie stepped closer. "So you get to throw your wife into glass shards before the truth is clear?"
"It's already pretty obvious—"
"Really?" Natalie gave a cold laugh. She always made that sound before saying something harsh.
"Lucien, you saw the result, not the process. How many people have you interrogated in your life? When you interrogate someone, do you just listen to the accuser's final statement and make your judgment?"
"This is different." I shot back irritably.
"How is it different?"
"Mother..." I suddenly felt powerless. "Serena and her friends have no reason to lie like that."
Natalie looked at me, eyes full of disappointment.
"Do you hear what you just said?"
I didn't answer.
"You didn't say 'I investigated.' You didn't say 'the evidence points to her.'" Natalie jabbed her finger hard into my chest. "You said 'Serena wouldn't lie'! Lucien, that's emotion, not judgment. If your father heard that, he'd beat you on the spot."
"Then what makes you so sure Elora didn't push her?"
"I'm not sure." Natalie shook her head. "But at least—you need to investigate first. Check the cameras, question the servers... Once you have hard evidence, then you can decide whether to throw your wife into the glass!"
"She's not—"
Natalie's eyes narrowed instantly. "What were you going to say?"
"Nothing."
"Lucien, you're the one who brought her to the manor. You're the one who announced to all the servants at dinner that she was the lady of the estate."
My hand clenched into a fist in my suit pocket. I looked up ahead. The red light above the emergency room still glared.
"What I saw with my own eyes can't be wrong."
Natalie tugged her shawl hard, straightened her spine.
"Fine. If you're that certain, then don't regret it." She turned toward the elevator. "If you find out she really did push her, I'll be the first to personally throw her out of the manor. But until the truth comes out, I won't allow any false accusations in our family."
The elevator doors closed. The hallway fell quiet.
After about ten minutes, Carlo arrived with four bodyguards in black, his presence menacing.
"Where's that bitch?" Carlo's face was iron, the flesh on it trembling violently. "She hurt my daughter—you have to hand that woman over!"
I should have agreed with Carlo. Elora, that awful woman, had hurt someone I considered my sister. But somehow, every cell in my body violently resisted the thought—as if the moment I handed Elora over, I'd lose something irretrievable forever.
"Carlo. I'll handle Elora myself."
"Lucien Genovese." He took a breath. "I want her. Tonight."
"I said." I narrowed my eyes. "This is Genovese family business. Hand my wife over to you—where does that leave my reputation?"
Carlo's hand tightened on the top of his cane.
"This needs an answer."
"I'll give you an answer."
"You better not be bewitched by that woman!"
"Not your concern."
Carlo snorted coldly, said nothing more, and stood grimly outside the emergency room.
After what felt like forever, the ER doors finally opened. Harrison pulled off his mask and came out. Carlo impatiently pushed into the hospital room.
"Mr. Genovese."
I straightened. "How's Serena?"
"Situation's temporarily under control. Acute arrhythmia, plus severe shock and excessive blood loss. Her heart can't take this kind of stress. Vital signs are stable for now."
"Will it happen again?"
"Not tonight. Dozens of serious lacerations on her back and shoulders. The deepest one took six stitches. All glass fragments removed. She needs three days hospitalized for full evaluation."
"Thanks."
"One more thing." Harrison hesitated. "I just reviewed Miss Casalesi's medication records. Her dosages over recent months are completely off. Those emergency tablets she carries—the dosage deviates from the prescription."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning she hasn't been following the prescription strictly. Could be missed doses, or she deliberately adjusted the dosage herself... This easily triggers sudden arrhythmia."
"Got it."
Harrison left. I stood alone in the empty hallway, all the tension draining from my body at once. I had no time to think about Serena's medication—my mind was full of thank God, she didn't die.
I raised my hand to rub my forehead, but saw a patch of deep red on my cuff, half-dried and stiff, showing a shocking dark color.
I turned my hand toward the white hallway lights to examine it. Serena's blood was on my left shoulder, left chest, and left forearm. But this right cuff...
I suddenly remembered—Elora had grabbed my sleeve trying to explain. This blood was hers. My stomach dropped. Regret and anxiety surged up.
When did she get hurt?
This feeling was completely different from my worry for Serena. It was like a red-hot wire, stabbing deep into my heart.
"Rocco, car!"
"Where to, boss..." Rocco rushed over.
"Back to the manor!"