Stephanie always felt that the man sitting beside her was forever shrouded in an impenetrable mist. Even though she managed the Eternal City's internal affairs department and oversaw all logistical operations of the organization, she still had no idea how many classified black ops were currently underway. The Royal Guard operated beyond the jurisdiction of internal affairs, and every mission they carried out was of black or deep crimson clearance level. The Guard functioned as an entirely separate system. Constantine did not participate in administrative operations, and likewise, the internal department had no authority over the Guard's activities. However, the Royal Guard did have decision-making power in certain matters—they could intervene in key decisions of the internal department and, in some ways, act on behalf of the monarch.
That meant the Royal Guard, when necessary, became a higher authority than the internal department—akin to special envoys of the feudal lords in ancient societies.
Now, there was another person with authority higher than hers, and that was what upset Stephanie the most.
Even though Victor Von Doom wouldn't be involved in the Eternal City's operations until the Latveria situation was fully resolved, Stephanie was already preparing to engage the iron-masked man in a game of office politics. The reason she stormed into Solomon's office and demanded answers was just part of her maneuvering—she had long known Solomon wouldn't change his mind. Showing her dissatisfaction might make him feel he owed her a favor, one she could later use to gain concessions.
Solomon chuckled and picked up a data terminal from his desk.
Stephanie always made the same mistake—forgetting that her superior was a spellcaster. Even without using second sight to read her surface thoughts, Solomon could fish small fragments of the future from the sea of her soul by analyzing her behavior patterns and deduce her intent. It wasn't her fault; the power games she had learned throughout her life had always been against ordinary people. Even with the protective jewelry and brooches Solomon had given her—items meant to shield the mind and blur prophetic readings—such defenses weren't always effective against someone as powerful as Solomon.
Still, he was happy to indulge Stephanie Malik's little schemes. To him, they were amusing.
"Okay, let's see how Wanda Maximoff's mission is going… Yep, here it is." He unlocked a document with a biometric scan and handed the data terminal to Stephanie. "Technically, you've always had clearance to access this file. You just never checked it."
Stephanie made a cute deflating noise, like a balloon losing air, as she lazily flipped through the document. "Last I saw, Wanda had put Robbie Reyes in the hospital. I figured she'd have finished the job by now. Why the delay?"
"Because I need to take care of you, Gabe!" Wanda smiled across the table at the boy in the wheelchair.
"You saw what happened. Robbie's in the hospital. Someone has to look after you."
"I know." Gabriel Reyes looked troubled. For someone his age, Gabe was incredibly well-behaved—perhaps the only silver lining of his disability. The red-haired woman calling herself Wanda Maximoff claimed to be Robbie's friend. After the incident, she had taken Gabe to the ICU to visit his brother and paid the exorbitant medical bills in full. Gabe had nearly fainted when he saw the invoice. As the one who managed the household finances, he knew those numbers were astronomical—Robbie could work for a hundred years fixing cars and never earn enough to cover that. And Gabe himself was a useless cripple.
Gabe Reyes was certain he'd never seen this woman before, but he dared not question her—nor let her know what he was thinking—because he had no clue what her real intentions were. Growing up in the slums, he never believed in free handouts. Still, when Gabe didn't object, Wanda moved into their living room, sleeping on the couch. She took him across Los Angeles every day to visit Robbie in the hospital and lovingly managed all his meals and daily needs.
Over time, Gabe slowly lowered his guard. He began to feel that this red-haired woman genuinely cared for him, not because of some hidden agenda. Besides, her cooking was hundreds of times better than his brother's. Gabe really didn't want to go back to microwaved pizza for breakfast. Now he had decent meals every day—even if they were a bit heavy on the veggies, he enjoyed them.
"What's wrong?" he asked when he noticed Wanda's expression darken after a phone call. Gabe tensed. "Did something happen to Robbie?"
"No, no, everything's fine." Wanda hesitated, searching for the right words. "The doctors moved Robbie to a general ward," she said. "He should be discharged soon."
"Can I go see him today?"
"Probably not. There's still some paperwork to do." She forced a smile. "I'll check in at the hospital and be back before dinner. If you're hungry, the fridge has…"
"Steak salad," Gabe interrupted. "I know. I just think steak salad is weird."
"That's how New Yorkers eat," Wanda said as she grabbed her coat and keys. "Honestly, I think it's weird too."
"Miss Maximoff, I'm terribly sorry," said the white woman in a navy blue pantsuit, approaching Wanda with a practiced, accentless English. "I believe you've already been informed of the situation. I deeply regret the fire that broke out in the ICU. We're cooperating fully with the police to search for Robbie Reyes. We'll also be refunding the full cost of his medical treatment and, as compensation, will provide lifetime insurance coverage for Mr. Reyes' underage family member."
"I'm not—… Fine. Thank you," Wanda nodded. She had seen the fire trucks near the hospital as soon as she arrived in her rental car. She already knew what had happened. To keep Gabe from worrying, she'd bent their TV antenna with a small spell before leaving—just in case he saw the news.
The woman relaxed a little when she realized Wanda wasn't reacting aggressively.
A fire in the ICU was a massive scandal for any hospital, especially since the hospital had also failed to notify the patient's family in time. If word of this reached the media, it would be a PR nightmare. Government scrutiny would follow, and the hospital would be forced to issue a public apology. For Dr. Christina Galli, one of the hospital administrators, resolving things with a refund and some insurance was a lucky break—any problem solvable with money wasn't a real problem. It gave her time to deal with the real issues: the impending government investigations.
"I'd like to review the security footage from that night," Wanda said.
"Of course. That's your right. My secretary will escort you to the security office," Dr. Galli replied. "I'm sorry I can't accompany you personally. I hope you know how deeply saddened I am. An incident like this is heartbreaking for any family."
Wanda nodded politely to everything she said. She wasn't interested in playing the game of fake sympathy—she had already seen the real emotions behind Dr. Galli's eyes. Besides, Wanda had already guessed the real cause of the ICU fire.
Robbie Reyes had woken up.
"This is my secretary, Laura. Laura, please take Miss Maximoff to the security office so she can review the footage. I'm sure she wants to know exactly what happened that night."
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