Quit the Mafia Crown, Took the Healer Scalpel Chapter 10

Quit the Mafia Crown, Took the Healer Scalpel Chapter 10

In Zurich, autumn leaves burned red.

Lina sat by the window in the library, a textbook on neuroanatomy open in front of her.

Outside, someone was tossing a frisbee on the lawn, laughter drifting in. She glanced up, then looked back

down.

It had been two months since she came to Europe.

The hospital where she trained was called St. Andis, one of the most expensive private hospitals in Zurich.

Her mentor had said the hospital’s rich patients meant both practice and money.

Lina really did need money.

She had left the marriage with nothing, and had taken none of the luxury jewelry Dante gave her.

The fifty million she had once gotten from Dante had long since been spent on her grandmother’s treatment.

She counted every cent now: discounted chicken, week-old yogurt, she didn’t mind.

Her first patient was a boy who had twisted his ankle playing basketball.

Twenty-two, Chinese American, with two little fangs when he smiled, and eyes that stayed bright on Lina.

While she wrapped his ankle, he kept looking at her face, focused and enchanted.

“Doctor, your needle didn’t hurt at all!”

Lina kept wrapping the bandage. “Don’t move.”

“What’s your name?”

“Lina Vance.”

After the divorce, she had gone back to her maiden name.

“I’m Matteo Russo.” He paused. “Could I have your number? I’ll come back for another wrap next time.”

Lina looked up at him. “Mr. Russo, I hope there won’t be a next time.”

Who on earth hopes to get hurt again?

Matteo refused to give up.

The next day he sent flowers with a card, “To the prettiest doctor.” Lina returned them via the nurses’ station.

The third day, he sent coffee. She didn’t drink it and gave it to the nurse on duty.

The fourth day, macarons. She didn’t even look at them and sent them back.

On the fifth day he waited outside the hospital and rushed up to her. “Free today?”

Lina walked around him.

He followed. “Just dinner. It’s not a proposal.”

Lina stopped and turned to look at him. “Mr. Russo, I’m busy. I don’t have time to play with children.”

Matteo looked wounded. “I’m twenty-two. Not a child.”

He

followed her in, and the doors slid shut.

“What do you like? I’ll get it right next time.”

“Nothing.”

“Then what kind of person do you like?”

Lina gave him a look. “Quiet ones.”

Matteo was speechless.

Then his beautiful eyes rolled around as if he were plotting something.

The elevator stopped on the second floor, and a tall, cold-faced man walked in.

Matteo immediately wilted.

The man wore a dark grey coat, a watch flashing at his cuff under the elevator light.

He glanced at Lina, his gaze indifferent and appraising.

“You’re the doctor my brother keeps pestering?”

Lina nodded.

“Stay away from him and don’t play games,” the man said. “The Russos don’t welcome strangers. A friendly

warning.”

The elevator doors opened. Lina walked out and turned to smile at him.

“Don’t worry. I have no interest in children.”

Later, she learned the man’s name was Liam Russo.

The Russo family was one of Europe’s most infamous mafia families; Liam, thirty-four, mature and steady,

had taken it over young.

Lina saw Liam again a week later, in the small hours of the night.

She was on the night shift when the ER brought in a patient with a gunshot wound.

She walked in with her chart and froze when she saw the face on the bed.

Liam Russo.

By rights, he shouldn’t have been there.

He must have been in too much of a hurry to reach his private doctor.

This unlucky man was probably being hunted.

Treating him meant danger.

Liam lay on the gurney, pale, sweat on his temples.

When he saw her, his gaze steadied. He said nothing.

The nurse called out vitals. “Temperature 38.7, blood pressure low.”

Lina examined the wound and looked up. “He needs surgery right away. Where’s his family?”

“No family,” Liam said, his voice hoarse. “I’ll sign for myself.”

Lina handed him the consent form, watched him sign, and turned toward the operating room.

The surgery lasted forty minutes.

Lina led the operation, clean and precise, excising and suturing in one smooth flow.

The anesthesiologist praised her. “Dr. Lina’s technique is really good.”

On the day he was discharged, Liam was waiting outside her ward door.

His color had mostly recovered, and a business card was pinched between his fingers.

“Dr. Lina.”

Lina stopped.

Liam held out the card. “The Russo family needs a private physician. Triple the salary. Consider it.”