The Return of The Forsaken Son-in law

Chapter 9

The bedroom was a shrine of desperate hope—flowers filled every corner, medical equipment hummed softly, and the scent of expensive perfumes couldn't quite mask the sterile smell of prolonged illness. Isabella Benedetto lay motionless on the king-sized bed, her once-vibrant beauty now fragile as porcelain after two years in a coma.

Marco approached the bedside while Sal, Vincent, Anthony, and Lorenzo watched intently. Isabella's breathing was shallow, her skin pale as moonlight, but even unconscious, her features held an ethereal grace.

"Beautiful girl," Marco said softly, then turned to Lorenzo with calculating eyes. "Dr. DiMarco, I'm curious—how much has Mr. Benedetto paid you for treating his daughter over these two years?"

Lorenzo's chest puffed with indignation. "I refuse to discuss financial matters with a pathetic worm like you!"

"Answer him," Sal commanded, his voice carrying dangerous undertones.

Lorenzo straightened his expensive suit. "If you must know, I've received nothing. I've treated Isabella out of pure loyalty and friendship to the Benedetto family."

"How noble," Marco said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Two years of free medical care for the most powerful man in the city. That's either incredible generosity or incredible stupidity."

"I don't expect a cockroach like you to understand concepts like honor and duty!" Lorenzo snapped.

Marco smiled coldly and moved closer to Isabella's still form. "Or perhaps it's incredible guilt."

"What are you implying, you insignificant maggot?"

"I'm not implying anything, Doctor. I'm stating facts." Marco's voice grew harder. "Someone deliberately placed a silver needle in Isabella's body to block her primary acupoint."

The room fell silent except for the quiet hum of medical equipment.

"That's impossible," Vincent whispered.

"Is it?" Marco carefully lifted Isabella's hair, revealing a tiny puncture mark near her temple. "The needle was placed with surgical precision to ensure that any subsequent acupuncture treatment would worsen her condition rather than improve it."

Lorenzo's face went pale. "You're... you're making this up! No one would do such a thing!"

"Vincent's treatment failed not because he's incompetent," Marco continued, ignoring Lorenzo's protests, "but because he was sabotaged. Someone wanted Isabella to remain unconscious indefinitely."

Sal's voice was deadly quiet. "Are you saying someone intentionally harmed my daughter?"

"I'm saying someone turned her into a living weapon—a trap designed to destroy any doctor who tried to help her." Marco's eyes locked onto Lorenzo's terrified face. "The question is: who would benefit from keeping Isabella unconscious?"

"This is ridiculous!" Lorenzo's voice cracked. "You're just trying to cover for your own incompetence by making wild accusations!"

Marco pulled out a silver needle from his medical kit. "Let me show you something, Dr. DiMarco."

With lightning speed, Marco placed the needle at a specific point on Isabella's forehead and applied gentle pressure. Suddenly, another silver needle emerged from the puncture wound—a needle that had been embedded deep in her skull for over two years.

"Jesus Christ," Anthony gasped.

Sal's face turned murderous as he stared at the bloody needle in Marco's hand. "Someone... someone put that in my daughter's head?"

"Not just anyone," Marco said, studying the needle's craftsmanship. "This is medical-grade silver, precisely placed to cause maximum damage while appearing accidental. Only a skilled physician could have done this."

Lorenzo backed toward the door, his arrogance crumbling into panic. "This proves nothing! Anyone could have—"

"Could have what? Performed brain surgery without leaving scars? Placed a needle with millimeter precision in exactly the right spot to cause coma without death?" Marco's voice cut through Lorenzo's protests like a blade. "Only someone with intimate knowledge of acupuncture points could accomplish this."

"You're insane! I would never—"

"Harm a patient?" Marco interrupted. "Or get caught harming a patient?"

Without another word, Marco began the most complex acupuncture procedure of his life. His hands moved like lightning, placing needle after needle with supernatural precision. One, ten, twenty, fifty, seventy, ninety-nine needles—each one perfectly positioned to reverse years of blocked energy flow.

"Ninety-nine needles," Marco announced, then placed his hand gently on Isabella's forehead. "Isabella, your father is waiting for you. It's time to wake up."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Isabella's eyelids fluttered. Her breathing deepened. Color returned to her cheeks.

"Papa?" Her voice was weak but clear. "Papa, is that you?"

Sal fell to his knees beside the bed, tears streaming down his face. "Isabella! My beautiful girl, you're back!"

"I missed you so much, Papa," Isabella whispered, reaching up to touch her father's face. "I could hear you talking to me, but I couldn't respond."

The room erupted in amazed murmurs, but Lorenzo suddenly lunged forward, pulling needles from his coat pocket.

"She can't wake up! She'll ruin everything!" Lorenzo screamed, throwing the needles toward Isabella's throat.

Marco instantly grabbed a bedsheet, deflecting the projectiles with fluid grace. "Sal! Your friend just tried to murder your daughter!"

"LORENZO!" Sal's roar shook the entire mansion. "GUARDS!"

Three armed men burst through the door, immediately restraining the panicking doctor.

"Wait, please!" Lorenzo struggled against the guards. "You don't understand! This will destroy everything!"

Isabella's weak voice cut through the chaos. "Papa... I remember now. It wasn't an accident."

Sal knelt beside her again. "What do you mean, sweetheart?"

"The car crash... it was Stefano DiMarco. Lorenzo's son." Isabella's voice grew stronger with each word. "He was drunk, driving on the wrong side of the road. He hit me head-on, then fled the scene."

Lorenzo's resistance crumbled. "Isabella, please, you have to understand—Stefano is my only son! His career, his future—"

"So you kept me unconscious to protect your murderous offspring?" Sal's voice was barely human.

"It wasn't supposed to be permanent! I thought... I thought maybe you'd eventually give up hope, and the truth would never come out!"

Sal stood slowly, his face a mask of controlled rage. "You kept my daughter in a coma for two years to cover up your son's crime?"

"Sal, please, we've been friends for decades—"

"Friends?" Sal's laugh was terrifying. "You tortured my child for two years while pretending to be her healer!"

Marco watched as Sal's legendary composure finally shattered.

"Guards," Sal's voice carried the weight of absolute authority, "I want Lorenzo DiMarco and every immediate member of his family dead by sunrise. The rest of the DiMarco clan has twenty-four hours to leave Riverside Heights forever. Anyone who helps them or harbors them will join Lorenzo in hell."

"Sal, no! Please! I'll do anything—"

"You've done enough." Sal turned his back on the pleading doctor as the guards dragged him away.

In the sudden quiet that followed, Sal approached Marco and, to everyone's shock, dropped to one knee.

"Marco Romano," Sal's voice was thick with emotion, "you have given me back my daughter and exposed a conspiracy that nearly destroyed my family. I pledge to you my eternal gratitude and loyalty."

"Mr. Benedetto, please stand up," Marco said gently. "I'm just glad Isabella is safe."

"No," Sal remained kneeling. "You've done more than save her life—you've restored my faith in justice. From this moment forward, there is nothing in Riverside Heights I wouldn't do for you. My resources, my influence, my very life—all are at your disposal."

Isabella reached out weakly toward Marco. "Thank you for bringing me back to my papa."

Marco took her hand gently. "Welcome back to the world, Isabella. Your father never stopped believing you'd return."

As Sal finally stood, his eyes burned with fierce loyalty. "Marco Romano, you now have the most powerful man in Riverside Heights as your ally. And trust me—that's going to change everything."