Chapter 11
Helena’s breath caught.
“$50 million?”
“With 1 stipulation,” Nicholas continued. “The funds are to be used exclusively to construct the new, state-of-the-art Caterina Russo Cardiothoracic Wing. You, Dr. Hastings, have been named the permanent chief director of the facility. No board can fire you. No administrator can overrule you. This hospital is your kingdom now.”
Helena stared at the envelope as her thoughts accelerated.
It was the level of funding that medical researchers spent entire careers trying to obtain. It would allow her to save thousands of lives, develop new surgical techniques, and establish a permanent legacy in medicine.
“You cannot buy me, Nicholas,” she said, although her voice no longer carried its usual sharpness.
“I am not buying you, Doc. I am backing you.”
Nicholas turned toward the door. With his hand resting on the brass doorknob, he looked back at her.
The syndicate boss and the surgeon shared a silent understanding, formed through blood, surgery, and gunfire.
“If you ever need anything,” Nicholas said, his voice carrying the weight of an unbreakable agreement, “and I mean anything in this world, you make 1 phone call. The Russo family never forgets.”
He left the office, closing the door behind him.
Dr. Helena Hastings remained alone in the silence. She looked down at her hands. They were the same hands that had held a scalpel, held a gun, and unintentionally secured influence over New York’s deadliest criminal organization.
She drew the envelope toward her.
May you like
A small, knowing smile appeared on her face.
The world regarded her as a surgeon. Helena understood that she now held the beating heart of the city in the palm of her hand.
