The devil's offer

Alessandro Moretti walked through the  corridors of Sant'Elena Private Hospital with the confidence of a man who knew he owned half the city and probably would own the other half by the next year. The scent of disinfectant did little to distract his focusas his shoes clicked against the marble floor. He hated hospitals. Not for the sickness.

 No, he hated them because they were reminders that money couldn’t buy immortality. But money,at least, could buy everything else. And that was enough.

    He wasn’t here to cheer up the sick or check the children. He never was. He was here to finalize a deal with a biogenetics company. A new pharmaceutical section was being developed under Moretti Enterprises and if this deal went through, his empire would takea step into health care. With the right alliances, Moretti Enterprises would be more than just a leader in high end real estate, tech infrastructure, and hospitality, it would be the future.

    Alessandro wasn’t interested in saving lives. He was interested in owning the companies that claimed they could. Saving lives was cheap talk, power was the goal.

     As he stepped into the private lounge reserved for high profile clients, he was met by the company’s representative. Papers were signed, hands were shaken. But halfway through the meeting, something or someone caught his eye from the floor below through the glass in the patient waiting area

A girl.

Head bowed, hands gripping the edge of the bench like it was the only thing keeping her present. Her hair was tangled like she had never combed it. She looked like the world had dealt her a blow. And yet, Alessandro recognized her almost instantly

The waitress.

The one who had screamed at him in public, yhe one who’d spat on his shoe like she wasn’t terrified of who he was.

That had been weeks ago but he still remembered her

Her voice shaking but defiant and the way her eyes met his like they were equals. She had met fire with fire.

And now, here she was. Looking shattered and hopeless.

The doctor she had just spoken to walked past Alessandro a few minutes later in the hallway. Alessandro commanded his attention effortlessly.

“That girl downstairs,” he said in a low voice. “The one with shaggy brown hair. Her name?”

The doctor blinked. “Rosalie. Rosalie Bianco"

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s not the patient" the doctor replied "“It’s her mother. She has Leukemia, stage four. We’ve recommended surgery and aggressive treatment, but they can’t afford it.”

Alessandro nodded. “Understood. Thank you, you can go.”

He didn’t say anything else. He walked away, but the image of her didn’t leave him. Rosalie Bianco. There was something poetic about her name

He returned to the lounge and looked down at her again, the meeting had concluded.

Something twisted inside him, not sympathy, no Curiosity. The desire to break someone like her open, see what made her tick, what made her fight. And then to turn that fight into submission. That was what he did best, find what people protected most and make them put it in his hands. It didn’t take long to decide.

He called his assistant, Amara, and within an hour, Rosalie’s mother’s medical details were on his desk. He read them, not for concern, but to get as much information as possible. Every detail mattered. Every crisis, an opportunity.

He waited.

It was two days later when he returned to the hospital under the pretense of checking the new pharmaceutical wing design ideas. Of course, that was only partially true. His mind wasn't on all that, it was on her.

She was there again. This time with her mother, who had just been brought for an evaluation in a wheelchair. Rosalie’s shoulders were hunched, she looked thinner, her eyes swollen from sleepless nights.

   He watched from across the hallway, walking slowly to the doctor's office.

She argued with the nurse at the counter.

“She needs this surgery,” she was pleading. “Please, I’ll find a way to pay. Just don’t send her home yet, I don't want to lose her too."

Her voice cracked. The nurse gave her a tired look and an answer about policy and payment. Rosalie held back tears and rushed to the doctor’s office, pushing the door open before she was stopped and told to wait outside.

Alessandro stepped out then, so casually like he hadn’t been watching her the whole time.

He sat beside her on the waiting bench. Her head was in her hands. When she finally lifted it, her expression moved from sadness to shock..

“You,” she whispered. There was hate in her voice and fear.

He smiled faintly, "Yes, me.”

“I don’t have time for this,” she snapped, standing to leave.

“You should sit down.”

“And why the hell should I listen to you?”

“Because I can save your mother’s life.”

She froze, her fists clenched.

He stood then, pulled a small black business card from his pocket, and offered it to her.

“I’ll cover every cost. The surgery, the medications, private nurses, everything.”

Rosalie stared at the card like it was a snake. “Why?”

His smile widened, his eyes hard. “Because I want you, Miss Bianco. In my bed, at my call. And if you agree, I’ll give you a position in my company as my personal secretary, well paid. No questions asked. Say yes, and your mother gets everything she needs.”

Rosalie held her breath.

“You’re disgusting,” she whispered.

“I’m honest,” he replied, unsmiling. “Life doesn’t come with fairies fixing everything for you. But it comes with choices and this is yours.”

He handed her the card. “Call me before noon tomorrow. After that, the offer disappears.”

And with that, Alessandro Moretti walked away.

      Back in his suite that night, Alessandro poured himself a glass of wine, watching the city. He was not a man driven by lust. He was driven by power and control. He had built Moretti Enterprises from the ashes of his late father’s empire and no one had dared cross him since.

His company specialized in  real estate, data security for global investors and now healthcare. He didn’t build for comfort. He built fortresses for the powerful, technological protection for the rich, and now a medical facilitythat would cater to the wealthy who wanted immortality wrapped in white coats.

The girl Rosalie had interested him ecause she was not was he was used to. She didn’t bow to power, not immediately. But everyone broke eventually. Everyone had a price.

Alessandro’s phone vibrated

A message from an unknown number.

“I’ll do it, for my mother.”

He smiled a cold smile, finishing his wine in one slow sip.

Let the game begin.