On My Very First Day at Work, the Owner Appointed My Replacement, but After One Answer from Me, the Guard’s Face Changed

That day, when I entered Massimo Pascale’s palace, one of the armed guards locked the door and quietly told me that leaving this place did not happen by everyone’s own wish.

I held a small medical bag in my hands. Beside it I had a dark green folder, in which eight years of papers, university tuition receipts, and my last hope lay. The corner of the folder was worn because that morning it had fallen onto the floor several times on the bus.

Two days earlier, I was standing in a Boston neurological rehabilitation clinic and looking at a notice about my tuition. Three payments had accumulated. I had two more weeks, otherwise they would expel me from the doctoral program in neurological physical therapy.

That was exactly when my friend Camila called me.

“Fifty thousand dollars,” she told me in a café, when she tapped the rim of the cup with a spoon. “For three months of work.”

“Home care does not cost that much.”

“This is not ordinary home care.”

Camila was a lawyer, and her clients rarely lived ordinary lives.

“Massimo Pascale. Serious spinal injury. Several operations. The doctors say that the paralysis may be temporary.”

“And why me?”

Camila looked away.

“Medication control, bathing, dressing, moving, rehabilitation. Three nurses have already left.”

“Why?”

She was silent for a long time.

“Before the accident, Massimo controlled everyone. Now he cannot even control his own legs.”

“What else are you hiding from me?”

Camila looked directly at me.

“The Pascales are connected to organized crime.”

I laughed once. Only once.

“Are you sending me to be the mafia’s physical therapist?”

“Please, leave one man alive and under treatment.”

I accepted, because the lost doctorate frightened me more than crime did.

Two days later, a black automobile entered through an iron gate. Cameras turned in the yard, while armed men stood by the windows. Inside the palace there was cold marble, and in the air was the sharp smell of lemon disinfectant.

I found Massimo by the windows, in an electric wheelchair. He would have been thirty-eight. He had broad shoulders, dark hair, and a face as if frightening people were an everyday habit for him.

He slowly looked me up and down with his eyes.

“You are very small.”

The guard standing behind me immediately fell silent.

I put the bag on the floor.

“And you are very rude.”

It seemed that even the ticking of the clock stopped in the hall.

Massimo raised an eyebrow.

“Others are afraid of me.”

“I am not all the others.”

His laugh briefly rang through the hall. It was as if he himself was surprised that he had laughed.

I opened the folder.

“I have to assess the range of motion.”

“No.”

“Refusal of treatment will be recorded.”

“Will you really write that?”

“I write everything.”

Interest appeared on his face for the first time.

Then he looked at the guard.

“Cancel the interviews.”

My stomach tightened.

“What interviews?”

Massimo looked at me again.

“For your replacements.”

“I am working here for three months.”

“I will decide that.”

“No, my contract decides that.”

His fingers tightened on the armrest of the chair. At that moment I realized that money would not be the safest part.

Massimo tilted his head slightly.

“Elene, come closer. Your first test begins now.”

I took one step when the lock of a door sounded at the end of the corridor and someone called from inside…

The door opened and a man dressed in a black shirt entered. Massimo’s face immediately hardened.

“Luka, go outside,” he told him.

“I have to speak with you alone.”

“She is my patient.”

“She is already asking too many questions.”

Luka’s gaze fell on my green folder. I automatically covered the cover with my fingers.

“Are there cameras in the room?” I asked.

“Everything can be heard here,” Luka answered me.

“Then your family needs treatment for control more than for illness.”

Massimo looked at me sternly, but this time he did not laugh.

Luka bent down beside his wheelchair.

“You will not last three months.”

“I do not leave people when they become difficult,” I told him.

“You do not know whom you are protecting.”

“And you do not know whom you are threatening.”

Heavy steps sounded in the corridor. Luka went out, though he did not close the door completely.

Massimo said to me quietly:

“Check the room. There is something behind the mirror.”

I removed the mirror from the wall and found a small recorder there. Massimo’s hands did not move, but with his eyes he indicated where I should put it.

“Did your brother hide this?”

“I don’t know.”

One new file was flashing on the recorder’s screen. Today’s date was written in the file name, and an unknown number was beneath it.

I pressed the button with my finger. At first only breathing could be heard. Then a man’s voice sounded.

“The accident was only the beginning…”

Massimo lowered his eyes, as if this voice had long lived in his nightmares. Then I heard the second voice and my blood froze…

The second voice belonged to Camila.

“If he survives, everything will be revealed,” she was saying in the recording. “Elene must reach him before Luka takes complete control of the house.”

The recorder almost fell from my hand.

“Camila knew I would come here?”

Massimo lost his composure for the first time.

“She knew that I needed help. Nothing else.”

“Then why did she mention my name?”

In answer, the door opened and Camila entered. In her hand she held a brown folder, whose lock was closed with a small brass key.

“Because it is already too late for lies,” she said.

Luka was standing behind her too. There was a smile on his face, but his eyes had remained cold.

“At last, we are all together.”

I stood beside Massimo.

“What is happening?”

Camila put the folder on the table.

“Massimo’s accident was not accidental. The brake system was deliberately damaged. Traces of a sedative were also found in the car.”

Luka immediately snickered.

“This is an invented fairy tale.”

“No,” Camila said. “It is a laboratory conclusion.”

She opened the document and turned the sheet toward me. It said that the substance had been in a bottle purchased at the clinic, while the clinic’s purchase card was registered with Luka’s signature.

Silence fell over the hall.

Massimo looked at his brother.

“You?”

Luka’s jaw tightened.

“You ran the family. I was only trying to survive.”

“That is why you killed me?”

“You did not die.”

“Because you failed.”

Camila took out a second sheet.

“There is one more thing. The mechanic admitted that Luka ordered the car to be damaged. His testimony is recorded.”

She turned on the recorder. Luka’s own voice sounded.

“If Massimo cannot sign, everything will remain with me. Just make it so that the accident looks like an ordinary incident.”

Luka turned pale.

And I felt such cold, as if I were standing by an open window in winter.

“You said it yourself,” I told him.

“This could be edited.”

“Then why do you know it word for word?” Massimo asked him.

Luka stepped backward. At that moment, the sound of car tires was heard outside.

Camila looked toward the window and her face changed.

“The police have not arrived yet.”

“Then who are they?” I asked.

Camila looked at the phone. A new message appeared on the screen.

“If the folder is opened, Elene is the next target.”

Massimo moved the wheelchair in front of me.

“Now you have to decide whether you stay with me or run.”

Heavy steps approached behind the door and the handle slowly went down…