Kyle heard another knock about fifteen minutes after Isabeau left. This time when he called out, a woman in her early thirties entered carrying a medical bag. She wore professional attire, slacks and a crisp white blouse under a light cardigan, her dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail.

"Mr. Kyle? I’m Dr. Chen. Mr. Vescari asked me to examine your shoulder wound."

Kyle wasn’t surprised that the doctor was a woman. In Marcello’s world, he could guess she probably served two functions, medical expertise being only one of them. But Kyle had already gotten what he needed from Isabeau earlier, her mouth working him over, draining his cu, from his balls.

He had no use for Dr. Chen beyond her actual medical skills right now.

"Yeah, come in," he said, sitting up straighter on the bed.

Dr. Chen moved with efficient professionalism, setting her bag on the nightstand and pulling on latex gloves. "I need to see the wound. Can you remove the bandage or would you like me to?"

"Go ahead."

She worked carefully, peeling back the gauze that Isabeau’s people had applied. Her fingers were gentle but sure, the touch of someone who’d done this thousands of times. As the bandage came away, she leaned in closer, examining the entry wound with a small penlight.

"Hmm," she murmured, probing the area with careful pressure that still made Kyle wince. "You’re lucky."

"Lucky I got shot?"

"Lucky it’s not infected." She straightened up, disposing of the old bandage in a medical waste bag she’d brought. "Given the circumstances, this should be much worse."

Kyle frowned. "What do you mean? Whoever bandaged this seemed professional enough."

"It’s not the bandaging." Dr. Chen pulled out fresh supplies, prepping to clean and redress the wound. "It’s the bullet. Or more specifically, what was on the bullet."

Kyle’s blood went cold. "What?"

She glanced at him, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp. "There was a substance on the projectile. I found residue still in the wound tract when I examined it just now. Some kind of... I’m not entirely sure what it is without running tests, but it’s designed to cause tissue inflammation and systemic response. Basically, to make you very sick very quickly."

"But I’m fine."

"Because your body has naturally high antibodies, apparently. Your immune system fought it off before it could do real damage. Most people would be running a fever by now, possibly delirious. You’d have been in rough shape before ever making it to this point."

The pieces clicked into place like a puzzle Kyle should’ve seen coming. Isabeau’s plan had been horrendous from the start. She’d shot him, yes, but not just to frame Viktor. The poisoned bullet was insurance. Even if Kyle somehow survived the initial accusation, he’d be weakened, confused, barely able to defend himself when the families demanded answers. A sick, feverish mess would’ve been easy to execute.

But his body had fought it off. Pure dumb luck, or maybe something about his rebate system had enhanced his natural defenses without him realizing it. Either way, he’d dodged a bullet in more ways than one.

"Can you tell who might’ve used something like that?" Kyle asked carefully.

Dr. Chen’s face remained professionally blank as she cleaned the wound with antiseptic.

"I don’t ask questions about how my patients get injured, Mr. Kyle. I just treat them."

Smart woman. Loyal to Marcello, trained to keep her mouth shut. Kyle filed that information away.

"I’m going to need to monitor this over the next few days," she continued, applying fresh bandages with practiced efficiency. "The substance is mostly cleared from your system, but I want to make sure there’s no delayed reaction. Do you have a regular physician?"

"Not really."

"Then I’d recommend you take my number." She finished securing the bandage and pulled out a business card from her bag, setting it on the nightstand.

"Call if you experience fever, dizziness, unusual fatigue, or if the wound shows any signs of infection. Redness, swelling, discharge."

Kyle picked up the card. Dr. Vivian Chen, MD. A local number, no office address listed. Private practice, probably. The kind of doctor who made house calls for people who couldn’t or wouldn’t go to hospitals.

He looked at her more carefully now. She was very slender, almost willowy, with the kind of frame that suggested she ran or did yoga regularly. No visible curves to speak of, her chest nearly flat under the blouse and her hips narrow in the professional slacks. Her ass was moderate at best, nothing that would normally catch his eye.

But her face was striking. High cheekbones, dark eyes, full lips that looked natural rather than enhanced. The kind of face that would age well, that spoke of good genetics and careful self-maintenance. She was attractive in a refined way, even if her body type didn’t match what Kyle had grown accustomed to with Jane’s curves or Cassandra’s maternal figure or Ella’s athletic build.

More importantly, Kyle realized he didn’t need to fuck everyone he met. The thought was actually refreshing. Dr. Chen could be valuable in other ways. A direct line to medical care that didn’t ask questions, affiliated with Marcello which meant she understood discretion, trained to handle unusual situations.

"You know," Kyle said casually as she packed up her supplies, "Marcello’s lucky to have someone with your expertise on call. Can’t be easy, dealing with the kinds of injuries that probably come through here."

Dr. Chen didn’t look up from organizing her medical bag. "I treat all my patients with the same level of care, Mr. Kyle."

"I’m sure you do. Must take a special kind of person though. Someone who can stay calm under pressure, who doesn’t get rattled easily."

"It’s my job." Her tone remained professionally neutral.

"Still. I bet you’ve seen some things. The kind of things most doctors never encounter in a regular ER."

She zipped her bag closed and finally met his eyes.

"Mr. Kyle, I appreciate the conversation, but I have other appointments this evening. Take the antibiotics I’m leaving here, one every twelve hours with food. Change the dressing daily. Call if there are complications. That’s really all there is to it."

Kyle smiled, recognizing the polite shutdown for what it was. She wasn’t interested in flirting or small talk, wasn’t going to be drawn into revealing anything about her other patients or her relationship with Marcello. Professional to the core.

"Understood, Dr. Chen. Thanks for coming out."

She nodded, handed him a small bottle of pills from her bag, and headed for the door. Kyle watched her go, appreciating the economy of her movements, the way she carried herself with quiet confidence. Yeah, she’d be a good contact to have. Not for sex, just for what she actually did best.

The door closed behind her with a soft click.

Kyle pulled out his phone, intending to check messages, maybe text Jane or Ella to let them know he was alive. But the signal bars were nonexistent. Not weak, completely gone. He moved around the room, holding the phone up near the window, by the door, nothing changed.

Jammed. The whole mansion, or at least this wing of it, had signal jammers running. Made sense from a security standpoint. Harder for guests or captives to coordinate with outside help, harder for surveillance to happen remotely.

He looked down at Dr. Chen’s card again, thinking. She’d be loyal to Marcello first, obviously. But there might be a way to use that. If Kyle needed to feed Marcello information, or more specifically, if he needed to feed Marcello false information that would seem legitimate, having a trusted intermediary like a doctor could work. Medical concerns, urgent calls about complications, reasons to make contact that wouldn’t seem suspicious.

It was worth considering. Not now, not immediately, but the possibility existed.

Kyle set the card on the nightstand next to the bottle of antibiotics and lay back on the expensive sheets, staring at the ceiling. His mind was already racing ahead, piecing together what came next.

He’d survived. More than that, he’d come out ahead. Marcello now saw him as an equal, gave him protection and status among the families. Isabeau was neutralized, at least temporarily, their uneasy truce held together by mutual leverage. Viktor knew Kyle wasn’t just some civilian stumbling through the underworld. The other family heads hated him, but they couldn’t touch him.

But there was one thing that was absolutely certain, one truth that Kyle couldn’t ignore or postpone any longer.

He had to go to England.

Marcello believed his daughter was alive because Kyle had told him so. And Kyle had told him because Nakamura had dropped enough hints to make the connection. But Kyle didn’t have proof. Didn’t know exactly where Angelica was, what name she was using, whether she even knew who she really was.

Nakamura wanted Kyle to go to England anyway, to kidnap "Marcello’s daughter" as some kind of leverage play. Kyle had thought that meant the body double, the actress walking around this mansion. But Nakamura had been talking about the real Angelica all along. Maybe the whole plan was to bring her back, use her as a weapon against Marcello, control the Don through the one person he’d actually loved.

Kyle needed to get ahead of that. Needed to find Angelica himself, figure out what the truth really was, decide whether to bring her back to her father or keep that card close.