Chapter 13 - THE FIRST TREATMENT SESSION
Later that evening, the grand mansion hall was quiet, bathed in the soft amber glow of the crystal chandeliers.
Clara prepared her weathered silver needles on a velvet tray inside the newly prepared East Wing guest suite.
Marcus sat upright in his wheelchair, wearing a fresh black shirt and an ornate burgundy velvet robe.
"Are you ready to feel a little pain, Mr. Vance? Nerves waking up after three years doesn't tickle," Clara warned.
"I've survived cartel hits and corporate betrayals; I think I can handle a few needles," Marcus replied with a grim smile.
Clara knelt beside his wheelchair, her expression turning intensely focused as she located the damaged spinal receptors.
With slow, deliberate precision, she inserted the first silver needle into the base of his lower spine.
Marcus gasped sharply, his hands gripping the armrests as a sudden jolt of electricity shot down his paralyzed legs.
"Breathe, Mr. Vance. Natural rhythm," Clara instructed calmly, keeping her steady hands locked in place.
Marcus closed his eyes, executing slow, measured breaths as the agonizing burn of awakening nerves coursed through his body.
May you like
It was the first time in three years he had felt anything below his waist, and it felt like pure, beautiful fire.
***
