Chapter 2 - The Ghost of St. Jude’s
Dominic stood in the quiet hospital corridor for three long minutes, his tailored suit completely out of place against the peeling pastel paint.
He did not step into Room 412. He did not offer soft words.
Instead, Dominic turned on his heel and walked straight toward the administrative offices on the fifth floor.
The door to the Chief of Pediatrics bore a tarnished brass nameplate: Dr. Richard Evans.
Dominic pushed the door open without knocking.
Dr. Evans, a tired-looking man in his late fifties with round glasses, looked up from his computer with a scowl. "Excuse me, sir, this is a private office. Visiting hours are—"
Dominic reached into his coat, pulled out a thick leather wallet, and dropped a black metal card onto the desk alongside his heavy gold signet ring.
The doctor stared at the crest on the ring—the crowned falcon of the Gallo empire. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead.
"Mr. Gallo," Dr. Evans breathed, rising instantly to his feet. "I... I wasn't aware you were inspecting our facility."
"Room 412," Dominic said flatly, taking a seat in the leather chair across from the doctor. "Keo. Tell me everything."
"The boy has aggressive acute lymphoblastic leukemia," Dr. Evans explained, his hand shaking as he pulled up the digital chart. "Relapsed twice. The standard chemotherapy protocols have failed. His only realistic hope is a target-cell gene trial sponsored by Vance Pharmaceuticals."
"Why isn't he enrolled?"
"The corporate board withdrew the private grant yesterday. They require eighty thousand dollars upfront for the specialized lab manufacturing. His mother... she simply doesn't have the resources."
Dominic pulled his phone from his pocket, pressed a speed dial, and placed it on speakerphone on the mahogany desk.
"Boss?" the gravelly voice of Marco, Dominic's chief financial adviser, echoed into the room.
"Marco," Dominic commanded smoothly. "Transfer two hundred thousand dollars to the accounting department of St. Jude's County General. Mark it as an anonymous endowment for the pediatric trial of Keo."
The doctor’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. "Mr. Gallo, that... that covers the trial and three years of post-care!"
"I'm not finished," Dominic snapped quietly, leaning across the desk. "I want the private wing on the sixth floor cleared. Transfer the boy to a private room with round-the-clock specialists. If he needs medication imported from Switzerland or specialists flown in from Johns Hopkins, it happens within two hours. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir! Immediately!" Dr. Evans nodded furiously.
"One more thing," Dominic added, his obsidian eyes narrowing. "Linda must never know where the money came from. If she asks, tell her an international medical foundation selected his case."
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"Why wouldn't you want the credit?" the doctor asked, bewildered.
Dominic stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. "Because she has enough debts in her life, Doctor. She doesn't need to owe a monster."
