Chapter 4 - The Broken Mirror
"Then help me," Maya blurted out, abandoning caution. "You have warehouses full of these machines. You donate millions to charity galas downtown for tax write-offs. You throw away flowers in this apartment that cost more than Mateo's monthly prescription. If you hate Marcus, shut him down. But don't let my brother die to prove a point about your supply chain."
Damian didn't flinch. Instead, a strange, bitter humor flashed in his gray eyes. "You think this penthouse was bought with clean hands, Maya? My father started this company by patent-locking generic insulin formulations twenty years ago. When my sister Elena found out, she walked away from the family trust. She lived in a drafty two-bedroom apartment in Logan Square, working as a public school art teacher, refusing every dollar I tried to give her."
He looked toward the hallway where Clara slept. "Elena died because the local emergency room had outdated triage equipment and delayed her C-section by forty-five minutes. I inherited everything she hated, and all my money couldn't buy forty-five minutes of competent care. So do not lecture me on the morality of medicine."
Maya felt the anger drain out of her, replaced by a sudden, hollow realization. Beneath Damian’s immaculate suits, cold voice, and sharp commands, there was no tyrant—only a shattered brother imprisoned by his own wealth, unable to grieve the sister who had rejected him.
"Elena loved you," Maya said softly. "She kept a picture of you in her hospital locker. The nurses told me when I took the nanny position."
Damian turned his back to her, staring out the floor-to-ceiling glass at the sprawling city below. "Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock, Marcus Reyes expects your payment. You will call him back. You will tell him you have the cash."
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"Why?"
"Because," Damian said without turning around, "I am going to deliver it myself."
