The Return of The Forsaken Son-in law

Chapter 8

Marco found solace in the quiet sanctuary of Wilson Pharmacy, watching Rosa sleep peacefully in the private recovery room. Six expert nurses, handpicked by Dr. Vincent Castellano, monitored her condition around the clock. Her breathing was steady, her color healthy—the Rejuvenating Pills had worked a miracle.

"Young Master Romano!" A breathless voice interrupted his peaceful moment.

Luigi, Vincent's personal driver, burst through the door, his face pale with panic and sweat streaming down his forehead.

"Luigi? What's wrong?" Marco stood up immediately.

"Dr. Castellano... he's in terrible danger! You must come with me immediately!" Luigi's hands shook as he grabbed Marco's arm. "Please, there's no time to explain here!"

Marco followed Luigi to a black Mercedes, and as they sped through the city streets, Luigi's terrified words spilled out in a rush.

"Mr. Anthony Wilson... he gave one of your miracle pills to Salvatore Benedetto... you know, Sal the First King of Riverside Heights!"

Marco's eyes narrowed. Sal Benedetto was legendary—the most powerful man in the city, controlling everything from politics to business with an iron fist.

"Why would Anthony give away the pill?" Marco asked.

"Sal's daughter has been in a coma for six months!" Luigi's voice cracked. "The pill improved her condition, so Sal summoned Dr. Castellano to continue the treatment. But there was another doctor there—Lorenzo DiMarco, from the famous DiMarco medical family!"

Luigi's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Lorenzo kept mocking Dr. Castellano, calling him a second-rate physician, goading him into attempting treatment beyond his abilities. Dr. Castellano tried to refuse, but his pride... he couldn't back down in front of everyone."

"What happened?"

"The treatment backfired! The girl's condition worsened, and Sal went into a rage! He was about to... to kill Dr. Castellano when Vincent mentioned you—said you were the real miracle worker behind the pills."

Marco felt his blood run cold. "And?"

"Sal gave him six hours to bring you, or else..." Luigi couldn't finish the sentence.

Sal Benedetto's mansion was a fortress of marble and gold, sprawling across several acres of perfectly manicured gardens. Armed guards stood at every entrance, their eyes cold and professional. Marco was escorted through ornate hallways lined with priceless artwork into a grand study where four men waited.

Salvatore Benedetto sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his presence commanding absolute authority. Despite being in his sixties, his eyes burned with the intensity of a man who had clawed his way to the top. Beside him stood Anthony Wilson, looking nervous, and Dr. Vincent Castellano, whose face was pale with fear.

The fourth man was clearly Dr. Lorenzo DiMarco—tall, distinguished, with silver hair and an arrogant sneer that immediately set Marco's teeth on edge.

"So," Sal's voice boomed through the room, "this is the miracle worker Vincent claims can save my daughter?"

Lorenzo burst into mocking laughter. "This scrawny kid? Sal, you can't be serious! He looks like he just crawled out of a college dormitory!"

"Dr. DiMarco raises a valid point," Sal said, studying Marco with calculating eyes. "You're awfully young to possess such legendary medical knowledge."

Lorenzo stepped forward, his voice dripping with contempt. "I've been practicing medicine for thirty-five years, Sal. I've treated presidents, celebrities, royalty—and you want to trust your daughter's life to this pathetic worm?"

Marco met Lorenzo's gaze calmly. "Dr. DiMarco, you're absolutely right about one thing—you have been practicing for thirty-five years. The key word being 'practicing.' Most people master their profession after a decade. What's your excuse?"

Vincent's eyes widened in shock at Marco's boldness.

Lorenzo's face flushed red. "You insolent little cockroach! How dare you—"

"I dare because unlike you, I don't need three decades to learn what real doctors master in three years," Marco interrupted smoothly. "Tell me, Doctor, in all your years of 'practice,' have you ever actually cured someone who other physicians declared hopeless?"

"I am a member of the DiMarco family! Our medical legacy spans generations!" Lorenzo sputtered.

Marco smiled coldly. "Ah, so you're riding on your family's reputation. That explains everything. You're like an old tortoise—ancient, slow, and convinced that age equals wisdom. But tortoises don't fly, Doctor, no matter how long they've been crawling."

Anthony covered his mouth to hide a smirk, while Vincent looked terrified at Marco's audacity.

Lorenzo's face turned purple with rage. "You arrogant little maggot! I'll show you what real medicine looks like! I demand to know where you stole the formula for those pills!"

"Stole?" Marco's voice remained perfectly calm. "The only thing stolen here is the time we're wasting listening to your incompetence disguised as experience."

Sal raised his hand for silence, his eyes never leaving Marco. "Enough. Boy, Vincent tells me you have miraculous healing abilities. But I've been fooled by charlatans before. Prove to me you're not just another fraud."

Marco nodded respectfully. "Mr. Benedetto, may I ask about your daughter's condition?"

"She's been comatose for six months after a car accident. No one has been able to wake her."

Marco closed his eyes briefly, accessing the ancient knowledge flowing through the jade pendant. When he opened them, his voice carried absolute certainty.

"Your daughter's coma isn't from the accident alone. She has a rare blood disorder—inherited from her mother's side. The same condition that killed her mother during childbirth twenty-three years ago."

Sal's face went completely white. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Furthermore," Marco continued, "your daughter was born three weeks premature, weighing exactly four pounds and seven ounces. She had breathing problems for the first two weeks of her life, and there's a small birthmark shaped like a crescent moon on her left shoulder blade."

The room fell into absolute silence. Anthony's jaw dropped open, Vincent stared in amazement, and even Lorenzo looked stunned.

Sal's voice was barely a whisper. "Everything... everything you just said is true. But those details... only family members would know them."

"The ancient medical arts see beyond surface symptoms, Mr. Benedetto. They reveal the true source of illness—not just what happened, but why it happened."

Sal stood up slowly, his earlier skepticism replaced by desperate hope. "Can... can you save her?"

Marco met his eyes with compassion. "I can try, Mr. Benedetto. But I won't make promises I can't keep."

"Name your price!" Sal's voice cracked with emotion. "I'll give you half my fortune—hundred million, two hundred million—whatever you want!"

Marco shook his head gently. "I don't want your money, Mr. Benedetto. A father's love for his daughter is payment enough. If I can help her, I will—not for profit, but because no parent should have to watch their child suffer."

Sal's eyes filled with tears. "You... you're willing to help for nothing?"

"For the right reasons," Marco corrected. "Love is the most powerful healing force in the universe."

Lorenzo, who had been silent during this exchange, suddenly stepped forward with a vicious smile. "Wait just a minute! I want to make a wager!"

All eyes turned to him. "If this arrogant little cockroach fails—when he fails—he must give me both the remaining pills and the complete recipe. The DiMarco family deserves to possess such powerful medicine!"

Marco studied Lorenzo's greedy expression and understood immediately. "So that's your real game. You don't care about healing—you want to steal my family's legacy."

"Legacy?" Lorenzo laughed harshly. "A pathetic insect like you has no legacy! Whatever quack formula you're using belongs in the hands of real medical professionals!"

"And if I succeed?" Marco asked quietly.

Lorenzo's smile turned cruel. "You won't. But if by some miracle you do, I'll publicly acknowledge that a worthless maggot like you is a better physician than I am."

Sal looked between them. "These are the terms you both agree to?"

Lorenzo nodded eagerly, while Marco simply said, "Agreed."

As they prepared to go to the daughter's room, Marco felt the jade pendant pulse against his chest. His ancestor's voice whispered in his mind: "The DiMarco family has always coveted our knowledge. Show them why the Romano legacy cannot be stolen—only earned."