Chapter 182
Isabella's body stiffened suddenly, then started to struggle and resist even more fiercely, completely out of control.
"No, don't, let go..." she cried out incoherently, her hands desperately trying to pry apart Vitale's arms wrapped around her waist, her feet kicking wildly under the blanket. "Vitale, let me go, I'm scared, I'm so scared..."
Her resistance was so real, so intense, filled with a deep, physical fear.
What she feared might not just be those bloody memories, but also Vitale, who was holding her at this moment.
And what he represented—the cruel, real world she had just glimpsed a part of.
Vitale's arms froze.
He didn't dare to use more strength, afraid of hurting Isabella, and even more afraid of worsening her fear.
He could only loosen his grip a little, but still stubbornly kept his arms loosely around her, as if that was his last line of defense.
Watching her struggle in pain, on the verge of breaking down, the last bit of light in Vitale's eyes went out.
All that remained was a deep, endless exhaustion, frustration, and a helpless ache.
He kept holding her loosely like that, staying silent for a long time.
Isabella's muffled sobs echoed in the quiet room, each sound like a whip striking his heart.
Finally, Vitale seemed to make up his mind. He very slowly released his arms from around Isabella and sat up on the bed.
He didn't look at Isabella, who was still curled up and crying. Instead, he reached out, picked up the internal communicator on the bedside table, and pressed a quick-dial number.
"Jerry," his voice was low and hoarse, carrying an undeniable command, "Come to the master bedroom right now. Bring your medical kit. Immediately."
About ten minutes later, there was a soft knock on the bedroom door before it opened.
A man in his forties, wearing a neatly pressed white coat and gold-rimmed glasses, with a gentle, almost scholarly appearance, walked in quickly.
This was Jerry Nelson, the Luca family's—or rather, Vitale's personal—chief doctor, and an expert in handling certain special injuries and situations.
As soon as Jerry entered, the first thing he saw was Isabella, curled up on the bed, crying, clearly on the edge of a mental breakdown.
And sitting by the bed was Vitale, shirtless, looking exhausted and defeated, yet his eyes still sharp like a wounded beast.
Jerry paused for a moment, a flicker of surprise flashing behind his glasses.
He had been with Vitale for many years. He'd seen him furious, cold, calculating, and even weak from serious injuries, but he had never seen him like this.
In front of a woman, Vitale showed such obvious frustration and pain, almost as if he didn't know what to do.
But Jerry's professionalism quickly made him compose himself.
He gave a slight bow, walked briskly to the bedside, and set down a black case that looked heavier and more complex than a regular medical kit, with intricate locks.
"Mr. Luca," Jerry said in a steady voice, with the calm typical of a doctor.
Vitale didn't turn around. He just waved a tired hand, his gaze still fixed on Isabella, "Give her a sedative. Let her calm down and get some proper sleep."
"You decide the dosage. Make sure it doesn't harm her in any way."
Jerry nodded without asking questions. He efficiently opened the medical kit, took out disinfectant supplies, a syringe, and a small vial of clear, colorless liquid.
He approached Isabella's side of the bed, spoke a few soft, comforting words, then skillfully found a suitable vein on her arm, disinfected the area, inserted the needle, and slowly injected the medicine.
Throughout the process, Vitale watched in silence, his fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white.
The drug took effect quickly.
Isabella's tense body gradually relaxed, and her intense crying turned into soft whimpers.
Her tightly furrowed brows slowly smoothed out, her tear-soaked eyelashes stopped trembling violently, and they finally closed, slowly and heavily.
She slipped into a deep, unaware sleep induced by the medication.
Only then did Vitale seem to let go of a heavy burden, letting out a long, heavy breath.
He reached out, his fingertips gently brushing aside the messy hair on Isabella's forehead, damp with sweat and tears. His gaze lingered greedily on her pale but finally peaceful sleeping face.
Vitale looked at her for a long time before turning to Jerry, who was packing up his equipment.
His eyes had returned to their usual cold and sharp state.
"How long will this drug keep her under?" Vitale asked in a low voice, as if afraid of waking the person on the bed.
Jerry paused for a moment, adjusted his glasses, and answered cautiously, "With the dose I gave, she'll sleep for a full day and night, maybe even longer."
"It'll give her body enough rest and help her nerves recover a bit." He hesitated, then added, "But, Mr. Luca, if I may be frank, Ms. Lorraine is clearly suffering from severe psychological trauma. These are typical symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. A sedative can only treat the symptoms, temporarily pulling her out of the painful situation, but emotional wounds need a different kind of healing."
He watched Vitale's expression carefully, and seeing no immediate anger, he cautiously voiced his biggest question, "Why don't you tell Ms. Lorraine the truth? For instance, that girl named Eva didn't actually die in that explosion."
Vitale's fingers, stroking Isabella's blonde hair, paused almost imperceptibly.
His gaze fell on Isabella's bandaged hand, his expression complex and hard to read.
"I know," he said in a low voice, a rare trace of exhaustion in his tone, "I need to use Eva as bait to hook Marco, that fish hiding in the deepest waters. Her being alive is worth more than her being dead."
He looked up at Jerry, and in those blue eyes, there was no longer the pain he showed when facing Isabella—just cold calculation and a faint, barely noticeable bitterness.
"But, Jerry, I'm scared," Vitale's voice was soft but unusually clear, "I'm scared that if I tell her Eva is still alive, it'll bring back those nightmares—the explosion, Eva shooting at her, and the fake explosion I ordered."
"I'm scared she'll fear me even more, that she'll be even less able to accept my world. I didn't expect her to be so terrified of me killing."
Vitale tugged at the corner of his mouth in a self-mocking way, "I thought she'd at least gotten used to it, or could understand."
Jerry listened quietly. As Vitale's most trusted doctor, he knew the darkness behind this man's polished exterior and had seen the hidden corners of his heart.
"But you can't hide it from her forever, Mr. Luca," Jerry reminded gently, "Lies and secrets are often the deepest poison in a relationship, especially when the truth itself is so brutal."
Vitale was silent for a long time.
The only sound in the room was Isabella's steady, slow breathing.
Then, as if something occurred to him, he suddenly asked, "Jerry, I remember your wife, Emily Nelson, is an elementary school teacher, right? An ordinary, kind woman."
Jerry nodded, a soft smile unconsciously appearing on his face, "Yes, Mr. Luca. Emily is the sunshine in my life."
"How did you do it?" Vitale stared at him, his gaze sharp and probing, "Didn't you deceive her? About your real identity, about what you do for me, for this family? Including those not-so-honorable treatments and the occasional... disposals?"
Jerry's smile faded slightly, turning serious and honest.
He shook his head.
"No, I never deceived Emily from the start," Jerry said calmly, with a certainty born from experience, "Before we even started dating, before she accepted my proposal, I told her everything."
"My background, the nature of my work, who I serve, and that I don't just save lives. In certain situations, to protect what and who I value, I'll use methods that aren't exactly legal, even deadly ones."
Jerry paused, a cold glint flashing behind his glasses before his gentle demeanor returned, "I made sure Emily knew exactly who she was marrying and what kind of complicated, dangerous world she was stepping into. I didn't sugarcoat it, and I didn't hide anything."
Vitale raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the answer, "She accepted it? An ordinary elementary school teacher accepted someone like you?"
Jerry smiled faintly, a smile filled with contentment and pride, "Yes, she did. Not because she's a saint or because she likes danger."
"It's because she loves me, the real me, including my dark side. She trusts me, believes I can protect her while trying my best to stay away from certain lines. Of course, we've set some rules and boundaries for that."
Jerry's tone turned flat, carrying an undeniable coldness as he recalled something, "For example, I personally dealt with her brother who tried to assault her. After that, Emily was in pain for a long time, but she never feared or distanced herself from me."
"Because she knew I did it to protect her, and I promised her that unless it's absolutely necessary, I won't let my hands be stained with unnecessary blood."
Vitale listened, his expression shifting subtly.
He looked at Jerry, this doctor who always had a friendly smile and exceptional medical skills.
Few people knew that Jerry was far more than just a doctor.
He was an expert in anatomy, familiar with various poisons and lethal drugs, and quite skilled in combat.
If it weren't for the fact that he owed Rhett a favor, was fiercely loyal to the Luca family, and was completely satisfied with his current life and status, Vitale himself might not even be a match for Jerry.
"You always manage to surprise me, Jerry," Vitale finally let out a light chuckle, the sound carrying a complex undertone.
He turned his gaze back to the sleeping Isabella, his eyes deep and resolute.
"I hope..." Vitale began slowly, "when she wakes up, you can help her. Heal the wounds in her heart, using your methods, your experience. Money, resources—whatever you need, it's yours."
He paused, his fingertips gently tracing Isabella's cheek, his touch tender but his tone filled with an unmistakable desire.
"I want to touch her, hold her, fuck her again, like before, with nothing between us, just the two of us."
Vitale looked at Jerry, his blue eyes burning with fire and a command that allowed no failure.
"So, heal her, Jerry. This is the most important task I'm giving you right now."