Chapter 4 - The Procedure in the WingBy 8:00 PM that evening, the private medical wing on the third floor of the Moretti estate was lit by sterile, high-powered surgical lights.
A team of world-renowned neurosurgeons—brought in via private military helicopter under Marco's direct supervision—worked with rapid, practiced precision around Dante's head and neck.
A local anesthetic was administered directly to his cervical spine, keeping Dante fully conscious throughout the delicate forty-minute procedure.
Using high-definition microsurgical lasers and magnetic scalpels, the chief surgeon carefully lifted the pale scar tissue beneath Dante's dark hair.
"My God..." the chief surgeon gasped, holding up a pair of titanium forceps under the magnifying lens.
Extracted from beneath Dante's skin was a tiny, oval device no larger than a grain of rice—a sleek, silver military-grade neural transponder equipped with three microscopic fiber-optic leads and an active red micro-LED indicator.
CLICK.
The surgeon dropped the silver chip into a glass beaker of saline solution.
Instantly, the heavy, suffocating mental fog that had clawed at Dante’s mind for three long years vanished into thin air.
His optic nerves cleared.
His memories—three years of suppressed financial transactions, coerced board votes, fabricated medical reports, and Isabella Romano's deceptive affection—flooded back into his consciousness with crystal clarity.
Dante sat up on the surgical table, his storm-gray eyes flashing with an unshakeable, terrifying authority.
"Marco," Dante commanded flatly.
"Yes, Don Dante?"
"Where is Isabella Romano?"
"She is currently downstairs in the grand ballroom, sir," Marco revealed with a razor-sharp smile. "She arrived thirty minutes ago expecting to finalize her pre-nuptial property agreement."
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Dante stood up from the operating table, slipping into a fresh white dress shirt and a tailored dark suit jacket.
"Tell my mother," Dante declared, "that the wedding is canceled... and the execution is about to begin."
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