CHAPTER 3: THE CONSPIRACY BENEATH THE SCARS
CHAPTER 3: THE CONSPIRACY BENEATH THE SCARS
Clare stared at the photograph for nearly a minute.
Her hands trembled.
Her heart pounded so violently she thought it might wake Oliver.
Someone had followed her son.
Someone had entered her apartment.
Someone knew exactly where she lived.
And they wanted Sebastian Lombardi to remain in that wheelchair.
She immediately locked every door and checked every window.
Then she sat at the kitchen table until sunrise.
The photograph never left her hands.
The next morning, Gabriel arrived unexpectedly.
His expression darkened the moment he saw the picture.
"Who sent this?"
"I was hoping you could tell me."
Gabriel studied the message.
For the first time since she had met him, genuine concern appeared in his eyes.
"This changes things."
"What things?"
"Everything."
Within an hour, Clare and Oliver were moved into a secure guest house hidden on Sebastian's sprawling estate.
Sebastian himself demanded to see the photograph.
The moment he read the threat, something shifted in him.
Not fear.
Rage.
Cold, controlled rage.
For twenty years, countless enemies had tried to kill him.
But threatening a child?
That crossed a line.
"Find out who delivered it," Sebastian ordered.
Gabriel nodded.
"It may take time."
"I don't care."
His voice dropped.
"Burn the city down if you have to."
Meanwhile, Clare could not stop thinking about the strange object she had felt inside Sebastian's back.
She needed proof.
That evening she convinced Sebastian to undergo a private scan using equipment secretly brought onto the estate.
The results arrived after midnight.
Clare stared at the images in disbelief.
There it was.
Embedded near the damaged vertebra.
A small metallic implant.
Perfectly concealed.
Impossible to notice without looking for it.
"What is it?" Sebastian asked.
Clare swallowed.
"I don't know."
The room fell silent.
Then Gabriel leaned closer to the screen.
His face turned pale.
Because engraved on the device was a tiny serial number.
A serial number linked to a military contractor.
One that had ceased operations eighteen years earlier.
Sebastian's eyes narrowed.
"Who owned the company?"
Gabriel hesitated.
Then answered.
"The company belonged to your uncle."
The room exploded into silence.
Sebastian's uncle.
Vincent Lombardi.
His father's younger brother.
The man who had helped raise him after the bombing.
The man he trusted more than anyone.
"No," Sebastian said quietly.
"That's impossible."
But deep down, he already knew.
Because suddenly pieces of the past began fitting together.
Vincent had always discouraged further surgeries.
Vincent had personally selected many of Sebastian's doctors.
Vincent had controlled access to his medical records.
For twenty years.
Twenty years.
A horrifying realization began forming.
What if the bomb had never been meant to kill him?
What if it had been designed to cripple him?
To make him dependent.
To make him controllable.
To keep the real power hidden elsewhere.
And if that was true—
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Then Vincent Lombardi wasn't his protector.
He was his jailer.
