{"id":893,"date":"2026-10-23T01:17:34","date_gmt":"2026-10-23T01:17:34","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lovenews.store\/?p=893"},"modified":"2026-10-23T01:17:34","modified_gmt":"2026-10-23T01:17:34","slug":"her-doctor-secretly-sent-photos-of-her-bruises-to-the-mafia-boss-at-midnight-his-response-was-immediate","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lovenews.store\/?p=893","title":{"rendered":"Her Doctor Secretly Sent Photos of Her Bruises to the Mafia Boss at Midnight\u2014His Response Was Immediate"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

Her Doctor Secretly Sent Photos of Her Bruises to the Mafia Boss at Midnight\u2014His Response Was Immediate<\/h1>\n<\/header>\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n
\n

Her Doctor Secretly Sent Photos of Her Bruises to the Mafia Boss at Midnight\u2014His Response Was Immediate<\/h2>\n

Her Doctor Secretly Sent Photos of Her Bruises to the Mafia Boss at Midnight\u2014His Response Was Immediate<\/h2>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Rain hammered the clinic windows.<\/p>\n

Dr. Selene Mercer stood frozen, one hand wrapped around a scalpel she did not remember picking up, while Preston Holloway aimed a gun across the room. Blood dripped from his wife Ivy\u2019s split lip onto the sterile floor.<\/p>\n

Preston\u2019s finger tightened on the trigger.<\/p>\n

In the fraction of a second before everything changed, Selene understood something that frightened her more than the weapon.<\/p>\n

The most dangerous man in Chicago was not necessarily the one holding the gun.<\/p>\n

Sometimes it was the man who did not need one.<\/p>\n

The 1st time Selene saw a man die, she was 7 years old.<\/p>\n

Her father collapsed in their kitchen while scrambling eggs. He clutched his chest and struggled for air that would not come. Selene remembered yellow morning light through the curtains, the smell of burning butter, her mother screaming into the telephone, and her father\u2019s eyes seeming to drift somewhere beyond the room while she stood holding a plastic cup of orange juice.<\/p>\n

The only hero she had ever known disappeared in front of her.<\/p>\n

23 years later, Selene still could not eat eggs.<\/p>\n

But she could save people.<\/p>\n

That was what she told herself every morning when she unlocked Mercy Street Clinic, a cramped medical office wedged between a pawn shop and a laundromat in one of Chicago\u2019s forgotten neighborhoods.<\/p>\n

The building smelled of disinfectant and broken promises. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Half of Selene\u2019s patients paid in cash. The other half did not pay at all.<\/p>\n

She did not care.<\/p>\n

She had attended medical school on scholarships and student loans she expected to be paying until she was 50. She had turned down residencies at Northwestern and Rush University to open a clinic that lost money every month.<\/p>\n

Her mother called it self-destruction disguised as altruism.<\/p>\n

Her former boyfriend called it a martyr complex.<\/p>\n

Selene called it breathing.<\/p>\n

Every time she stitched a knife wound, talked a teenager through an overdose, or looked into the eyes of someone who had forgotten hope, she was no longer the helpless 7-year-old standing in a kitchen filled with morning light.<\/p>\n

She was doing something.<\/p>\n

The evening Ivy Holloway arrived felt different from the beginning.<\/p>\n

Rain started around 6:00 p.m., turning the streets into rivers of trash and dirty water. Selene\u2019s final scheduled patient canceled. Her receptionist, Maria, left early to collect her child from daycare.<\/p>\n

The clinic was supposed to close at 8:00.<\/p>\n

At 7:45, someone knocked.<\/p>\n

Selene almost ignored it.<\/p>\n

Her lower back hurt after spending the day bent over examination tables. She had eaten nothing since noon except stale coffee and half a protein bar. A stack of billing paperwork sat on her desk, large enough to make her want to set the entire building on fire.<\/p>\n

But the knocking continued.<\/p>\n

Frantic.<\/p>\n

Desperate.<\/p>\n

Selene opened the door.<\/p>\n

A young woman stood outside, shivering and soaked through. Mascara ran down her cheeks in black streaks. She appeared to be in her mid-20s and wore designer clothes that probably cost more than Selene\u2019s monthly rent.<\/p>\n

Her silk blouse had become transparent in the rain.<\/p>\n

Blood was seeping through the fabric near her ribs.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease,\u201d she whispered. \u201cI didn\u2019t know where else to go.\u201d<\/p>\n

Selene brought her inside.<\/p>\n

Her name was Ivy Holloway.<\/p>\n

She sat trembling on the examination table while Selene carefully removed the ruined blouse.<\/p>\n

Underneath was a landscape of bruises.<\/p>\n

Purple. Yellow. Greenish black.<\/p>\n

They covered Ivy\u2019s torso in layers. Some were recent. Others appeared weeks old.<\/p>\n

Selene had seen injuries like these too many times.<\/p>\n

\u201cIvy,\u201d she said quietly as she pulled on latex gloves. \u201cWho did this to you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI fell.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNobody falls like this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m clumsy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Selene looked directly at her.<\/p>\n

Ivy\u2019s eyes were swollen and bloodshot. She looked as though she had been crying for days, perhaps years.<\/p>\n

\u201cI fell down the stairs,\u201d Ivy whispered.<\/p>\n

It was the worst lie Selene had ever heard.<\/p>\n

She cleaned the injuries without arguing. Her hands remained steady even as anger tightened her jaw.<\/p>\n

Ivy had a cracked rib, deep tissue bruising, defensive injuries on her forearms, and a laceration above her left eyebrow that required stitches.<\/p>\n

Selene asked whether she was in immediate danger.<\/p>\n

Ivy said no.<\/p>\n

She asked whether anyone was going to come looking for her.<\/p>\n

Again, Ivy said no.<\/p>\n

Selene told her help was available.<\/p>\n

Ivy\u2019s voice broke.<\/p>\n

She only wanted Selene to fix the visible injuries so no one would notice.<\/p>\n

Her husband was a good man, she insisted. He worked hard. Sometimes she made him angry.<\/p>\n

It was her fault.<\/p>\n

Before she could finish, the clinic door slammed open.<\/p>\n

Selene turned and instinctively stepped between Ivy and the man entering the room.<\/p>\n

He stormed inside with rain dripping from his tailored jacket and fury radiating from him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with an expensive haircut and the confidence of someone who had rarely been told no.<\/p>\n

Preston Holloway.<\/p>\n

Selene knew he was Ivy\u2019s husband before he introduced himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere you are.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice was slightly slurred.<\/p>\n

He demanded to know whether Ivy understood how embarrassing she had made the situation by running away.<\/p>\n

Selene ordered him to leave.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is a medical facility. My patient\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour patient is my wife.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat doesn\u2019t give you the right to\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s coming with me now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Preston stepped forward.<\/p>\n

Selene did not move.<\/p>\n

She was 5\u20196\u2033. Preston was approximately 6\u20192\u2033 and outweighed her by at least 80 lb.<\/p>\n

Behind her, Ivy whimpered.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not taking her anywhere,\u201d Selene said.<\/p>\n

Preston\u2019s face twisted.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think you can stop me?\u201d<\/p>\n

He raised his fist.<\/p>\n

A 2nd man entered the clinic.<\/p>\n

Selene never heard the door.<\/p>\n

One moment the space behind Preston was empty. The next, someone stood there.<\/p>\n

Still.<\/p>\n

Rainwater dripped from the shoulders of a black suit that probably cost more than Selene\u2019s car.<\/p>\n

Selene did not yet know his name.<\/p>\n

But she recognized what he was.<\/p>\n

Every city had men like him. Men who did not need to raise their voices to be heard. Men who entered a room and seemed to alter its atmosphere. Men whose reputations arrived before they did.<\/p>\n

Chicago publicly knew Damen Volkov as a billionaire philanthropist.<\/p>\n

The streets knew him as something else.<\/p>\n

\u201cPut your hand down,\u201d Damen said.<\/p>\n

His voice was smooth, almost polite.<\/p>\n

Something cold existed underneath it.<\/p>\n

Preston froze.<\/p>\n

He did not turn around, but his entire body locked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI said put it down.\u201d<\/p>\n

Preston slowly lowered his arm.<\/p>\n

Then he turned.<\/p>\n

Whatever he saw in Damen\u2019s face stripped away his drunken bravado. His skin went pale.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Volkov. I didn\u2019t\u2014I wasn\u2019t. This is just a misunderstanding. My wife gets confused sometimes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Damen glanced at Ivy.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd your wife looks like someone used her for target practice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe fell.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, she didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is between me and her. It\u2019s private. Domestic. You don\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Damen stepped toward him.<\/p>\n

Preston stumbled backward.<\/p>\n

Damen gave him 10 seconds to leave.<\/p>\n

If he saw Preston near the clinic again, heard that he had approached Ivy, or learned that he had so much as breathed in her direction, Damen promised that the only thing Preston would be capable of hitting was the bottom of the Chicago River.<\/p>\n

Preston understood.<\/p>\n

He left almost at a run.<\/p>\n

Silence settled over the clinic.<\/p>\n

Selene stood with her heart pounding and her hands clenched into fists.<\/p>\n

Ivy cried softly behind her.<\/p>\n

Damen turned toward Selene.<\/p>\n

Up close, he was even more unsettling.<\/p>\n

He was handsome in a cold, almost sculpted way, with a sharp jaw, dark hair and gray eyes. But what disturbed Selene most was his stillness.<\/p>\n

Most people shifted their weight, blinked unnecessarily, moved their hands.<\/p>\n

Damen did none of those things.<\/p>\n

He watched her with absolute concentration.<\/p>\n

He asked whether she was all right.<\/p>\n

Selene said she was fine.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t look fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t ask for your opinion.\u201d<\/p>\n

Something briefly crossed his face. Amusement, perhaps.<\/p>\n

He asked whether Ivy would survive.<\/p>\n

Physically, Selene said, she would heal.<\/p>\n

The rest could not be repaired with a bandage.<\/p>\n

Damen seemed to understand.<\/p>\n

Then he told them something neither woman expected.<\/p>\n

Preston owed money to an Eastern European trafficking network.<\/p>\n

If he could not pay, they might take Ivy as collateral.<\/p>\n

Selene felt cold.<\/p>\n

She demanded to know how Damen knew any of this.<\/p>\n

He told her he made it his business to know things.<\/p>\n

The fact that he already knew her name made the answer worse.<\/p>\n

Ivy asked whether it was true.<\/p>\n

Damen hesitated for only a moment before confirming it.<\/p>\n

Preston had told Ivy the money was a business loan.<\/p>\n

He had lied.<\/p>\n

And now Ivy was in danger.<\/p>\n

So was Selene.<\/p>\n

Preston knew Selene had seen his wife\u2019s injuries. He would assume Ivy had told her things. What Selene actually knew did not matter.<\/p>\n

Only what Preston believed she knew.<\/p>\n

Selene wanted to dismiss Damen\u2019s warning as paranoia.<\/p>\n

She could not.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

She asked what he suggested.<\/p>\n

Damen had a secure private property where both women could stay for the night.<\/p>\n

Selene refused.<\/p>\n

She did not know him. She did not know what he wanted. And she did not trust men who appeared from nowhere and played savior.<\/p>\n

Damen almost smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cSmart. I wouldn\u2019t trust me either.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen why should I?\u201d<\/p>\n

Because, Damen said, in approximately 30 minutes Preston would finish the bottle of whiskey he had started earlier, become more humiliated than frightened, and return with a gun.<\/p>\n

Then the only things between Selene and a bullet would be a flimsy door lock and whatever prayer she believed in.<\/p>\n

He was serious.<\/p>\n

He did not joke about murder.<\/p>\n

Ivy looked terrified.<\/p>\n

Selene had spent her adult life saving people.<\/p>\n

She had never been the person who needed saving.<\/p>\n

She asked what Damen wanted in exchange.<\/p>\n

He initially said nothing.<\/p>\n

Selene called that answer what it was.<\/p>\n

Bullshit.<\/p>\n

Nobody helped for free.<\/p>\n

Damen conceded the point. Eventually, he would want something.<\/p>\n

But that night, all he wanted was to ensure that both women lived until morning.<\/p>\n

Selene\u2019s instincts told her not to trust him.<\/p>\n

Those same instincts told her he was right about Preston.<\/p>\n

She agreed to 1 night.<\/p>\n

Damen arranged a car.<\/p>\n

Exactly 5 minutes later, a black Mercedes SUV arrived.<\/p>\n

The driver said nothing.<\/p>\n

Damen escorted Ivy and Selene into the rear seat and joined them.<\/p>\n

As they drove away, Selene watched Mercy Street Clinic disappear behind rain and darkness.<\/p>\n

20 minutes later, they stopped outside a high-rise overlooking the Chicago River.<\/p>\n

The building had marble floors, a uniformed doorman, and an elevator requiring a key card for access to the upper floors.<\/p>\n

Damen took them to the penthouse.<\/p>\n

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the river. Leather furniture filled the living room. The kitchen contained appliances Selene did not recognize.<\/p>\n

It was sleek and intimidating.<\/p>\n

A fortress disguised as luxury.<\/p>\n

There were 2 guest rooms, with a bathroom between them. Clothes were already stocked in the closets. They could eat anything they wanted.<\/p>\n

The security system was armed.<\/p>\n

No one entered without Damen\u2019s permission.<\/p>\n

Selene asked where he would be.<\/p>\n

His office.<\/p>\n

Before he left, she stopped him.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy are you doing this?\u201d<\/p>\n

For the 1st time, something almost sad appeared in his face.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause nobody did it for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Selene helped Ivy settle into one of the bedrooms, leaving painkillers and water beside her bed.<\/p>\n

Then she went to the other room and lay awake listening to rain against the windows.<\/p>\n

Her phone vibrated.<\/p>\n

An unknown number informed her that a restraining order against Preston would be filed first thing in the morning.<\/p>\n

Sleep well, Dr. Mercer.<\/p>\n

Selene checked the locks and lay in darkness, wondering what kind of man arranged restraining orders in the middle of the night.<\/p>\n

More importantly, she wondered what kind of man she had just trusted with her life.<\/p>\n

Morning came quickly.<\/p>\n

Selene followed the smell of coffee into the kitchen.<\/p>\n

Damen stood there in dark trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, making coffee as though it were an ordinary morning.<\/p>\n

The restraining order had already been signed by a judge.<\/p>\n

Preston was also being investigated for tax evasion, fraud and money laundering. By afternoon, Damen said, his assets would be frozen.<\/p>\n

Selene stared at him.<\/p>\n

He had done all of it overnight.<\/p>\n

Damen said he had already told her what he did.<\/p>\n

He knew things.<\/p>\n

And he ruined people.<\/p>\n

Only those who deserved it.<\/p>\n

As for the trafficking network Preston owed, they had been paid.<\/p>\n

Selene asked whether Damen had paid them.<\/p>\n

\u201cSomeone did.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was not an answer.<\/p>\n

He agreed.<\/p>\n

Selene studied him.<\/p>\n

In daylight, she saw exhaustion beneath the control.<\/p>\n

And loneliness.<\/p>\n

She asked why he cared.<\/p>\n

Damen finally told her about his mother.<\/p>\n

She had been like Ivy: beautiful and terrified, married to a man who believed love and violence were the same thing.<\/p>\n

No one helped her.<\/p>\n

No one stopped him.<\/p>\n

By the time Damen was old enough to do anything, she was already gone.<\/p>\n

It had made him who he was.<\/p>\n

Selene asked who that was.<\/p>\n

Damen looked at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cStill figuring that out.\u201d<\/p>\n

Over the following days, Ivy slowly recovered in the penthouse. The color returned to her face. She began eating and talking again.<\/p>\n

Selene visited every day to check on her.<\/p>\n

Soon she knew Ivy no longer needed daily medical attention.<\/p>\n

She continued coming anyway.<\/p>\n

The real reason was Damen.<\/p>\n

He was not what she had expected.<\/p>\n

He spent much of his time working from the penthouse, conducting calls in 3 languages. Men in expensive suits arrived for private meetings that ended with handshakes and wire transfers.<\/p>\n

Selene did not ask what they discussed.<\/p>\n

At night, after Ivy went to bed, she and Damen sat in the living room with coffee neither of them drank.<\/p>\n

They discussed books, music, Chicago architecture, medical ethics and the cost of power.<\/p>\n

Damen had read more philosophy than many professors Selene knew. He quoted Dostoevsky and Camus as though they were old acquaintances.<\/p>\n

More importantly, he listened.<\/p>\n

Not the performative listening people used while waiting for their opportunity to speak.<\/p>\n

He absorbed what Selene said as though it mattered.<\/p>\n

One evening, she told him he was not what she had expected.<\/p>\n

She had expected someone crueler.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am cruel,\u201d Damen said. \u201cJust not to people who don\u2019t deserve it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Selene questioned who gave him the right to decide who deserved cruelty.<\/p>\n

Someone had to decide, he answered.<\/p>\n

She told him that was dangerous.<\/p>\n

He replied that believing everyone deserved mercy could be equally dangerous.<\/p>\n

Selene could not ignore what was happening between them.<\/p>\n

Her heart accelerated when he looked at her. The atmosphere changed whenever they shared a room. She began thinking about him at 2:00 a.m. when she should have been sleeping.<\/p>\n

She knew it was a mistake.<\/p>\n

Men like Damen Volkov did not fall in love.<\/p>\n

They collected.<\/p>\n

Controlled.<\/p>\n

Consumed.<\/p>\n

Then, one rainy evening, Selene heard shouting from his office.<\/p>\n

A man in a cheap suit stood across Damen\u2019s desk, furious. He insisted Damen could not simply ignore procedures and rules because he had money.<\/p>\n

Damen told him it was not about money.<\/p>\n

It was about leverage.<\/p>\n

The man was a union representative attempting to extort protection money from one of Damen\u2019s construction companies and threatening workers if Damen refused to pay.<\/p>\n

Damen informed him that if he threatened one of his employees again, he would discover precisely how much leverage Damen possessed.<\/p>\n

After the man stormed out, Selene asked what Damen intended to do.<\/p>\n

The answer was not what she expected.<\/p>\n

The man would wake the following morning with federal investigators outside his house and a subpoena for documents proving he had embezzled union funds for 3 years.<\/p>\n

Selene should have been horrified.<\/p>\n

Instead, she felt relief.<\/p>\n

The man before her was not a simple monster.<\/p>\n

He was something more complicated.<\/p>\n

Something human.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou scare me,\u201d she admitted.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood. You should be scared.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot because of what you do. Because of how much I don\u2019t care what you do.\u201d<\/p>\n

Damen stared at her.<\/p>\n

Then he crossed the room and kissed her.<\/p>\n

It was desperate and hungry, as though he had been holding himself back for weeks.<\/p>\n

Selene kissed him with equal force.<\/p>\n

When they separated, both were breathing hard.<\/p>\n

Damen rested his forehead against hers.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is a bad idea.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTerrible idea.\u201d<\/p>\n

She should leave, he told her.<\/p>\n

Go home.<\/p>\n

Forget she had ever met him.<\/p>\n

Selene told him it was too late.<\/p>\n

Damen warned that he could not protect her from what he was.<\/p>\n

She was not asking him to.<\/p>\n

He believed he was too dangerous for someone like her. He believed he would ruin her, break her, turn her into something she was not.<\/p>\n

Selene grabbed the front of his shirt.<\/p>\n

Maybe, she said, she was the dangerous one.<\/p>\n

Because she saw exactly what he was.<\/p>\n

And she was still there.<\/p>\n

\u201cGod help us both,\u201d Damen murmured.<\/p>\n

Then he kissed her again.<\/p>\n

Selene did not go home that night.<\/p>\n

Somewhere between midnight and morning, she understood that she had crossed a boundary she could never uncross.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n