Chapter 8 8

The main salon was silent. Katherine sat on the velvet sofa, looking older than Mia had ever seen her.

Mia sat opposite, Leo still clinging to her like a limpet. He refused to let go, refused to look at anyone else.

"He hasn't spoken in two years," Katherine said, her voice trembling. "Not since the... incident with the kidnappers. His mother, Vivian... she's in Paris. She rarely calls."

Mia stroked Leo's back. He was asleep now, exhausted, his thumb in his mouth.

"He thinks you're her," Katherine said. She looked at Mia with a strange mixture of awe and suspicion. "Or maybe... maybe he sees something in you that we don't."

Katherine stood up. She walked over and placed a hand on Mia's shoulder. It wasn't gentle; it was a grip of iron necessity.

"You are useful," Katherine said, her voice hard and desperate. "You fixed Lucas's heart rate. You saved Leo. I don't care who you are or what crimes you committed. You will fix my family. If you fail, I will destroy you. But if you succeed... you'll have anything you want."

Mia nodded. "I'll handle Lucas."

She carried Leo upstairs. She put him in the small bed in the nursery, waiting until he was deeply asleep before untangling his fingers from her dress.

She walked back to Lucas's room.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the walker. He was trying to stand, sweat dripping from his nose. His legs were shaking uncontrollably.

"Dammit!" He slammed his hand against the mattress.

"You're rushing it," Mia said, closing the door.

Lucas looked up. "I heard about Leo. Is he okay?"

"He's sleeping. He almost drowned because your staff is incompetent."

Lucas's face darkened. "They're fired. All of them."

"Good. But that doesn't fix your legs."

Mia walked to the bedside table. She pulled the silver wires from her sleeve.

Lucas stared at them. "What is that?"

"Acupuncture."

"I don't believe in magic."

"It's not magic. It's neuro-stimulation. I'm going to bridge the signal gap in your spinal nerves using directed micro-trauma. It will hurt like hell, but you'll walk by tomorrow."

Lucas looked at the wires, then at her. "Where did a Sterling learn this?"

"I worked in an unlicensed clinic in the favelas of Rio for two years," Mia lied smoothly. "We didn't have MRI machines. We had to improvise."

Lucas hesitated. He looked at his useless legs. He looked at the clock. He had less than 24 hours before Julian made his move. The lie sounded plausible enough for a desperate runaway, which the report said she was.

He turned around, exposing his back. "Do it."

Mia didn't hesitate. She worked quickly, inserting the wires along his spine, focusing on the lumbar region.

Lucas groaned, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the sheets.

"Breathe," Mia commanded. She flicked the wires.

His back muscles spasmed. A groan was torn from his throat.

"It feels like fire," he gritted out.

"That's the nerves waking up. Endure it."

For thirty minutes, she worked on him. It was intimate, brutal, and effective.

When she removed the last wire, Lucas slumped forward, panting.

"Try to stand," she said.

Lucas placed his feet on the floor. He pushed up.

His legs held. They shook, but they held.

He stood to his full height-six foot three. He towered over Mia.

He looked down at her, his eyes wide with shock. He took a step. Then another.

He turned to face her. The distance between them was negligible. Mia could feel the heat radiating from his bare chest.

"Who are you really, Mia?" he whispered. "Rio didn't teach you this."

Mia stepped back, her expression guarding her secrets. "You'd be amazed what you can learn when you have nothing else to lose."