Chapter 3 - THE FIRST TIME LUCA STOODThe first thing Dr. Salazar did was stop Luca’s evening medication.
The second was refuse to promise anything.
“Your body has been suppressed for years,” he said. “If what you’ve been receiving is what I think it is, withdrawal alone could be dangerous.”
Luca sat inside the private rehabilitation room that occupied the east wing of his mansion.
He had built it eleven years earlier.
Then stopped using it ten years ago.
Dust still clung to equipment worth more than most houses.
“What exactly was I taking?”
Salazar placed three pills on a tray.
“One is legitimate blood-pressure medication.”
He moved it aside.
“The second is a muscle relaxant at a dose I would never normally prescribe long-term.”
“The third?”
Salazar hesitated.
“A compound designed to interfere with signal transmission between nerve and muscle.”
Luca stared.
“Designed by whom?”
“Originally? Pharmaceutical research.”
“For paralysis?”
“For neuromuscular disorders.”
“But used on me to imitate one.”
Salazar nodded.
“Partly.”
Luca looked toward his legs.
Partly.
He hated that word.
“What was actually wrong with me?”
Salazar glanced at Elena.
She stood near the wall, arms folded.
Maya sat beside her coloring a picture of a baseball diamond.
“Your initial event was probably a transient neurological episode,” Salazar said.
“Stroke?”
“Possibly a vascular spasm. Possibly toxicity.”
Luca looked up.
“Toxicity?”
Elena spoke.
“My mother believed you were poisoned before you reached the hospital.”
The room went silent.
Luca almost laughed.
“Of course I was.”
Maya looked up.
“What’s poisoned?”
Elena answered quickly.
“Something bad got into his body.”
“Like food?”
“Maybe.”
Maya looked at Luca.
“What did you eat?”
Luca remembered.
Dinner.
Oysters.
Steak.
Red wine.
Dominic sitting across from him.
His brother, Gabriel, arriving late.
Gabriel.
Luca’s chest tightened.
His older brother had died that same night.
Officially in a car crash forty minutes after Luca collapsed.
Two tragedies.
One evening.
For twelve years, Luca had treated them as unrelated.
Suddenly that seemed impossible.
“Get me the autopsy report on Gabriel,” he told Marco.
Marco stood near the door.
“Yes.”
“And everything from the restaurant.”
“After twelve years?”
“Everything.”
Maya raised her hand.
Luca stared.
“You are not in school.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you raising your hand?”
“Because Mom says it’s rude to interrupt.”
Luca looked at Elena.
“She has never shown concern before.”
Maya ignored him.
“Can I help?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because this is dangerous.”
“You said walking was dangerous too.”
“I said difficult.”
“Same face.”
Luca almost smiled.
Salazar interrupted.
“We need to test voluntary movement.”
Luca gripped parallel bars.
Two assistants stood ready.
He hated them immediately.
“Leave.”
Salazar frowned.
“You may fall.”
“I will certainly fall if four people stare at me.”
Maya looked up.
“I can stay.”
Luca considered.
“Why?”
“Because I already saw you not walk.”
Something about that removed the shame.
He nodded.
Elena took the assistants outside.
Salazar remained.
Luca locked his elbows and pushed upward.
His shoulders lifted.
His hips barely left the wheelchair.
His legs hung beneath him like someone else’s.
He dropped back.
Pain shot through his arms.
“Again.”
“Rest,” Salazar said.
“Again.”
Luca pushed.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Sweat ran down his neck.
Maya put down her crayon.
“Your left knee moved.”
“No.”
“It did.”
Salazar crouched.
“Try again.”
Luca pushed.
His left quadriceps trembled.
A visible contraction.
Salazar went still.
“Again.”
Luca tried.
The muscle fired.
Weak.
But intentional.
Luca stared.
Twelve years ago, that tiny movement would have meant nothing.
Now it felt like an earthquake.
Maya smiled.
“Sleeping.”
Luca laughed once.
A raw sound.
“Yes.”
He looked at his leg.
“Maybe.”
For four hours they tested him.
By midnight, Luca could flex two toes and contract one thigh.
He could not stand.
Not yet.
But the impossible had become measurable.
The next morning, he woke screaming.
Not from fear.
Pain.
His calves burned as if someone had poured fire beneath his skin.
Salazar rushed in.
“What happened?”
“I can feel them.”
The doctor froze.
Luca gripped the bedsheets.
“My legs hurt.”
Salazar smiled.
Actually smiled.
“Pain is good?”
Maya appeared behind him.
“Usually adults say no.”
Luca laughed despite himself.
The pain was terrible.
He welcomed every second.
Over the next six days, sensation returned in pieces.
Heat.
Pressure.
Pins and needles.
Then touch.
Maya developed a game.
She tapped different places on Luca’s legs while he closed his eyes.
“Knee.”
“Correct.”
“Ankle.”
“Correct.”
“Toe.”
“Wrong.”
“Which?”
“Other toe.”
Maya giggled.
“Still counts.”
By day seven, Luca stood between the bars for one second.
Then fell.
Day eight, three seconds.
Day ten, six.
Everyone in the room cried except Luca.
He was too busy breathing.
Maya shouted, “Again!”
Elena covered her mouth.
Marco looked toward the ceiling.
Salazar sat down because his knees gave way.
Luca tried again.
Seven seconds.
For twelve years he had imagined standing as a glorious moment.
It was not.
It hurt.
His legs shook violently.
His back cramped.
He felt weak.
Old.
Terrified.
It was the greatest feeling of his life.
That evening, Luca wheeled himself to the baseball field.
Maya sat beside him.
“Will you run?”
“One miracle at a time.”
“Will you walk?”
“I intend to.”
“When?”
“I dislike deadlines.”
“My teacher says goals need dates.”
“I dislike your teacher.”
Maya laughed.
Luca watched the sunset over the outfield.
Then she said, “Why did the bad man make you not walk?”
Luca looked at her.
He had tried to keep Dominic’s threat hidden.
Children noticed everything.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Maybe because you could go somewhere if you walked.”
The sentence sounded childish.
It wasn’t.
Luca turned toward her.
“What?”
“If you can walk, you can go somewhere.”
Luca stared toward the house.
Maya continued.
“Maybe he didn’t want you to go there.”
Something clicked.
Not mobility.
Access.
Before Luca’s paralysis, his father planned to bring him into an old Costello property outside the city.
The Foundry.
A fortress-like brick building used by Antonio Costello before the empire became legitimate enough to own glass towers.
Only family entered.
After Luca became disabled, Antonio postponed the meeting.
Then died.
The Foundry remained sealed.
Luca had never returned.
“Marco.”
His security chief approached.
“Get the keys to the Foundry.”
Marco froze.
That reaction told Luca everything.
“You have them.”
“No.”
“Marco.”
“It’s not accessible.”
Luca stared.
There it was.
Not accessible.
For twelve years, the Foundry’s narrow staircases prevented Luca from entering its underground levels.
Nobody remodeled it because Antonio’s will prohibited alteration.
Luca slowly smiled.
“Maya.”
“Yes?”
“You may have just solved something.”
She brightened.
“Do I get ice cream?”
“Probably.”
They drove to the Foundry that night.
Luca.
Marco.
Salazar.
Two guards.
Maya and Elena remained at the estate despite Maya’s furious objections.
The Foundry smelled of rust and river water.
Luca stopped at the staircase.
Twenty-four stone steps.
No elevator.
He looked at Salazar.
“I can’t climb that.”
“No.”
Luca stared.
Salazar added, “Not safely.”
Luca smiled.
“Different answer.”
Using braces, rails, and two guards close enough to catch him, Luca stood.
First step.
His leg almost buckled.
Second.
Pain.
Third.
He thought he might vomit.
At step twelve, Marco told him to stop.
Luca ignored him.
At step twenty-four, Luca stood at the bottom trembling.
He looked back up.
For the first time in twelve years, he had reached somewhere his wheelchair could not.
The underground room held a safe.
Antonio Costello’s fingerprint scanner was obsolete.
But a mechanical backup used a family code.
Gabriel’s birthday.
Luca entered it.
The safe opened.
Inside were files.
Cash.
A pistol.
And a letter addressed to LUCA.
His father’s handwriting.
Luca opened it.
Son,
If you are reading this, either I finally told you the truth or I failed.
Luca’s heart began pounding.
He continued.
Gabriel’s death was not an accident.
Luca stopped.
Marco whispered, “Boss?”
He kept reading.
The person responsible believed Gabriel discovered what was being done to you.
Luca’s hands began shaking.
The next line destroyed the last piece of his old life.
I believe Dominic poisoned you both.
And if I am dead before I can prove it, do not trust anyone who was in your hospital room that first night.
Luca slowly looked up.
Marco.
Salazar.
Both had been there.
Then he remembered someone else.
A young attorney.
His father’s attorney.
The woman who later became chairwoman of the Costello family trust.
Rebecca Crane.
Luca turned the page.
A photograph fell out.
Rebecca stood beside Dominic.
Taken outside St. Vincent Hospital twelve years ago.
On the back, Antonio had written:
THEY THINK YOU WILL NEVER WALK AGAIN.
MAKE SURE THEY ARE WRONG.
Luca stared at those words.
Then a noise sounded above.
The Foundry door slammed.
Marco grabbed his weapon.
Footsteps filled the stairwell.
Not one person.
Many.
Luca looked at the twenty-four steps he had nearly destroyed himself climbing.
There was no other exit.
Salazar whispered, “They followed us.”
Marco raised his gun.
Luca placed both hands on the rail.
His legs trembled.
For twelve years, anyone trying to trap Luca Costello needed only one thing.
A staircase.
Tonight, the men coming to kill him were counting on the same weakness.
Luca looked upward.
May you like
Then slowly stood.
“Let them come.”
