Dominic stared at the tiny finger pointing toward his ankle.
For three weeks, the burning sensation along his peroneal nerve had turned every step into a test of endurance.
"Show me," Dominic said, keeping his voice low and completely level.
Clare stiffened, her hands tightening on her daughter’s shoulders.
"Mr. Vale, please, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about," Clare whispered desperately.
"Let her go, Mrs. Rowan," Dominic replied without looking up at the maid.
Vincent took a half-step forward, his hand hovering near the lapel of his suit jacket.
"Boss, Arthur is already checking his watch inside," Vincent muttered under his breath.
Dominic raised a single finger, halting his security chief instantly.
Slowly, Clare released her grip on Ellie’s shoulders, though she remained crouched right behind her.
The toddler stepped forward, clutching her wooden latch board against her chest with one arm.
She reached down and lifted the hem of Dominic’s bespoke charcoal trousers two inches higher.
"The tooth is biting you," Ellie said simply, tapping the anodized aluminum cam buckle.
Dominic leaned heavily on his cane and looked down at the lower hinge assembly.
The custom carbon-fiber brace had three tension straps designed to distribute weight away from his healing tibial plateau.
"It’s backwards," the little girl added, lifting her wooden toy to show him a tiny brass clasp.
"See? Smooth side goes on the skin, bumpy side goes out."
Dominic narrowed his eyes and lowered himself onto the edge of a leather ottoman beside the linen cart.
His left leg throbbed violently as the angle of his knee changed, sending sparks of white heat down to his foot.
"Vincent," Dominic said quietly. "Look at the lower D-ring."
Vincent dropped to one knee on the marble floor, his trained eyes scanning the dark metal hardware.
He ran a gloved thumb along the inner edge of the lower tension hinge.
"Wait a minute," Vincent breathed, his jaw tightening.
"The bevelled pressure plate has been flipped around on the rivet."
Dominic reached down and felt beneath the neoprene padding right over the fibular head.
A hard metal ridge was digging directly into the exact cluster of nerves the surgeons had warned him to protect.
Every time the strap was tightened for walking, the reversed clasp acted like a tourniquet pin against the nerve sheath.
"Who services this brace when I’m in the hydrotherapy pool?" Dominic asked, his tone dropping an octave.
Vincent stayed on one knee, his face suddenly pale beneath the recessed hallway lights.
"Dr. Mercer’s assistant adjusts the tension settings every Tuesday and Friday morning," Vincent answered.
"And who recommended Dr. Mercer’s private clinic after the crash on Lower Wacker?" Dominic pressed.
Silence hung heavy between them, broken only by the steady drumming of rain against the lakefront glass.
"Arthur did," Vincent said, the realization hardening his features.
"He insisted the family physician wasn’t equipped for complex orthopedic rehab."
Dominic reached down and unfastened the lower Velcro strap with a sharp, tearing sound.
Instantly, the crushing pressure against the outside of his calf vanished.
A cool rush of blood flowed back into his numbed toes, replacing the searing fire that had crippled him for twenty-one days.
He took a slow breath, then slid the metal cam completely off the nylon webbing.
"Give me your pocketknife, Vincent," Dominic ordered.
Vincent pulled a sleek folding blade from his belt and handed it over butt-first.
With steady, practiced hands, Dominic pried the split locking ring apart and flipped the aluminum plate to its proper orientation.
Ellie watched every movement with wide, fascinated eyes, leaning in until her blond curls nearly brushed his knee.
"Now it goes click," she whispered as Dominic pressed the locking tab back into the channel.
A crisp metallic snap echoed softly between them.
"Just like that," Dominic said, looking straight into the toddler’s bright blue eyes.
He threaded the strap back through the smooth channel and pulled it snug against the padding.
Behind them, the heavy glass door of the conference room slid open.
Arthur Voss stepped out onto the marble, a silver fountain pen still balanced between his manicured fingers.
"Dominic, the transition papers won’t sign themselves, and the East Coast representatives have flights to catch," Arthur said smoothly.
His eyes drifted down to the maid, the child, and Dominic sitting on the low ottoman.
A faint, pitying smile touched the corners of Arthur’s mouth.
"If the leg is giving out completely, perhaps we should bring the notary out here to you," Arthur suggested.
Dominic didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he placed both feet flat on the floor and stood up without putting an ounce of weight on his cane.
The blinding nerve strike that usually made him flinch didn’t come.
He took one firm step toward the glass doors, then another, his stride completely balanced and utterly silent.
Arthur’s smile vanished as Dominic stopped less than a foot away, towering over his second-in-command.
"The notary can go home, Arthur," Dominic said, his voice carrying clearly into the open conference room.
"In fact, the council can go home too, because the only transition happening today involves your security clearance."
He hooked the handle of his cane over his forearm and gestured loosely toward the front foyer.
"Vincent, escort Mr. Voss to his car and have our men pay a visit to Dr. Mercer’s clinic before noon."
"With pleasure, Boss," Vincent said, stepping immediately behind Arthur’s left shoulder.
Arthur opened his mouth to protest, took one look at Dominic’s cold, steady posture, and thought better of it.
Once the heavy front doors closed behind them, Dominic turned back toward the linen cart.
Clare was trembling slightly, holding Ellie close against her apron as the six council members filed quietly out the side exit.
"Mrs. Rowan, you and your daughter are moving to the east wing suite this afternoon," Dominic said calmly.
"A girl with eyes that sharp shouldn’t be spending her mornings next to a laundry cart, and I’ll make sure her schooling matches her talent."
Clare let out a shaky breath of pure relief, while Ellie simply held up her wooden toy and smiled.
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