Chapter 2: The Price of Ignorance
The socialite’s throat tightened.
“That’s impossible,” she muttered. “She was in a wheelchair.”
Dr. Permone finally spoke for the first time, her voice steady despite the pain still written across her face.
“I still am.”
The man in the suit stepped slightly aside, revealing a second figure who had entered behind him—another operative carrying a reinforced medical case.
“We were not supposed to activate public protocol,” he said. “But you forced an exception.”
The hotel manager finally rushed forward, sweating. “This is a misunderstanding! We can compensate—anything! Just please—”
“No,” the operative cut in sharply. “You don’t compensate this.”
He turned toward the socialite.
“You assaulted a protected individual under international scientific security clearance. In a publicly accessible facility under surveillance.”
Her face went pale. “Protected? From what? She’s just—just a scientist!”
Dr. Permone looked up at her calmly.
“Do you know what my research was designed for?” she asked.
No answer.
“My spinal framework project wasn’t for hospitals,” she continued. “It was for people who were told they would never stand again… and soldiers who were never supposed to survive long enough to be buried.”
The words landed heavier than any threat.
“And you,” she added softly, “just kicked me onto the floor like I was nothing.”
For the first time, the socialite looked at the wheelchair—not as an object of weakness, but as something attached to power she didn’t understand.
Sirens echoed faintly outside.
Not police.
May you like
Something more coordinated.
The man in the suit leaned slightly toward her. “You should call your lawyer. Or your family. Preferably both.”
