Sheree returned to the hospital two days later wearing borrowed confidence.
Her real confidence had disappeared somewhere between the anonymous complaint and the meeting with the attorney Luca hired.
She had refused his first offer.
Then she learned the attorney normally charged nine hundred dollars an hour.
She accepted after Luca promised the bill would be considered repayment for medical services.
“You are the most annoying patient I have ever treated,” she told him.
“You said that already.”
“I mean it more now.”
Attorney Rachel Kim moved quickly.
Hospital administrators agreed to place Sheree on paid administrative leave rather than suspend her nursing credentials until an internal review was completed.
But somebody had used Sheree’s login.
Somebody had entered the medication room.
Somebody had removed fentanyl and falsified the record.
Rachel obtained security footage.
The person in the video wore scrubs, a surgical mask, and a hood.
The figure was the same height as Sheree.
Same general build.
Even the same style of shoes.
“They planned this,” Sheree whispered.
Rachel nodded.
“Yes.”
Luca watched the footage from across the conference table.
“When was it recorded?”
“Saturday at 5:12 a.m.”
Sheree was stitching Luca’s wound then.
But saying that created another problem.
Her alibi was Chicago’s most notorious alleged criminal.
Rachel seemed to realize it too.
“We need another way.”
The investigation led to Dr. Adrian Cole.
Forty-four.
Trauma surgeon.
Respected.
Charismatic.
A major donor to several hospital programs.
And, according to Luca, someone whose name appeared in financial records connected to a medical-supply distribution company involved in the riverfront warehouse thefts.
Sheree stared at the photograph.
“I know him.”
“How well?” Luca asked.
“He works trauma two nights a week.”
“Do you trust him?”
“I did.”
Adrian had always been friendly.
Sometimes too friendly.
He had asked Sheree to dinner twice.
She had declined twice.
He had taken it well.
Or apparently he had pretended to.
Rachel uncovered more.
A shell company connected to Adrian had purchased equipment stolen from Luca’s warehouse network.
Millions of dollars worth.
The ambush at the docks had likely been intended to erase evidence before Luca discovered the scheme.
But there was still a missing piece.
“How did he know where Luca would be?” Sheree asked.
“Someone inside my organization told him,” Luca said.
A traitor.
Sheree hated how naturally the word entered her mind now.
That evening, they sat in Luca’s library.
Snow tapped against the windows.
He had recovered enough that his movements were almost normal.
Sheree noticed anyway.
He still guarded his right side when standing.
“Your stitches need checking tomorrow.”
“You already checked them today.”
“Then I’ll check again.”
“Controlling.”
“Nurse.”
“Same thing.”
She smiled.
Luca poured coffee.
Their conversations had changed.
At first, every silence felt dangerous.
Now some silences felt comfortable.
That was dangerous in a different way.
“You should return home soon,” he said.
Sheree looked up.
“You’re kicking me out?”
“I thought you hated being here.”
“I hate your coffee.”
“You drink four cups daily.”
“Because I work in medicine. Our blood is mostly caffeine.”
Luca smiled.
Then his expression faded.
“The threat is being contained.”
“And you think I’m safe?”
“Safer.”
Sheree studied him.
“Do you want me to leave?”
He looked toward the fireplace.
That was answer enough.
“Luca.”
“No.”
“No what?”
“No, I don't want you to leave.”
The words hung between them.
Sheree’s pulse changed.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
“You barely know me,” she said.
“I know you stop for strangers.”
“That’s not always intelligent.”
“I know you argue when frightened.”
“I argue normally.”
“You hate blueberries.”
“Correct.”
“You leave half your coffee everywhere.”
“That is a character flaw.”
“You talk in your sleep.”
Her eyes widened.
“I do not.”
“You do.”
“What did I say?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Luca.”
He smiled.
Sheree stared at him.
This was the man newspapers described with words such as ruthless, feared, untouchable.
Yet at three in the morning he ate scrambled eggs with her.
He knew she hated blueberries.
He ordered extra blankets because she complained the guest room was cold.
People were more complicated than headlines.
She stepped closer.
“Why did you become this?”
The smile disappeared.
“This?”
“You know what I mean.”
Luca leaned against the desk.
“My father ran part of the organization before me.”
“So you inherited it?”
“No.”
He looked at the fire.
“My father was murdered when I was nineteen. My mother died two years earlier. Matteo and I were young. People assumed we would disappear.”
“But you didn't.”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“What I needed to.”
Sheree wondered how much blood hid inside those five words.
“Do you regret it?”
“Every day.”
That surprised her.
“Then leave.”
He laughed without humor.
“It doesn't work that way.”
“Why not?”
“Because hundreds of people depend on me. Some legal. Some not. Because leaving creates a vacuum. And vacuums in my world are filled violently.”
“You could change it.”
Luca looked at her.
“Into what?”
“Something legitimate.”
“Construction? Shipping? Restaurants?”
“You already have them.”
“You think men simply wake one morning and decide they’re businessmen?”
“No.”
She moved closer.
“I think men wake one morning and decide what they refuse to be anymore.”
Luca stared at her.
No one had spoken to him like that in years.
Certainly no one who expected to walk away afterward.
Sheree touched his bandaged side gently.
“You survived.”
“So?”
“Maybe surviving should mean something.”
Before Luca could answer, Dominic entered.
His expression wiped away everything else.
“We have a problem.”
Luca straightened.
“What?”
“Matteo is gone.”
Silence.
“What do you mean gone?”
“His car was found near the river.”
“Blood?”
“No.”
“Phone?”
“Inside the vehicle.”
Luca’s face became stone.
Then Dominic handed him a phone.
A message had arrived.
One photograph.
Matteo tied to a chair inside an industrial building.
And beneath it:
Bring the nurse. Come alone.
Sheree read the words.
Her stomach dropped.
Luca immediately said, “No.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“They want me.”
“They’re not getting you.”
“Matteo—”
“Is my responsibility.”
“He’s your family.”
“That is exactly why I won't trade you.”
Sheree stared.
“You would let him die?”
Pain flashed across Luca’s face.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I find another way.”
The phone rang.
Unknown number.
Luca answered.
Adrian Cole’s voice came through the speaker.
“Good evening, Sheree.”
Her blood ran cold.
Luca’s eyes became murderous.
Adrian laughed softly.
“I imagine you've discovered quite a lot by now.”
“You framed me,” Sheree said.
“You became inconvenient.”
“You attacked Luca?”
“I didn't personally do anything so crude.”
“Where is Matteo?”
“Alive.”
“For now,” Luca said.
“Exactly.”
Adrian’s tone changed.
“Midnight. South Harbor warehouse seventeen. Bring Sheree and the documents your people recovered. No police.”
The call ended.
Sheree looked at Luca.
“We’re going.”
“No.”
“We are.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“If he thinks I’m your weakness, use that.”
Luca's expression changed.
“You are not bait.”
“I’m a nurse who has spent ten years wishing someone had stopped for my brother.”
Her voice trembled.
“I will not become the person who walks away when your family needs help.”
For several seconds, Luca said nothing.
Then he touched her cheek.
Barely.
As if he feared she might vanish.
“This is why you terrify me.”
Sheree’s breath caught.
“Why?”
“Because I have spent my entire life learning how to lose things.”
His thumb brushed her cheek.
“And I do not know how to lose you.”
Neither moved.
Then Sheree whispered, “So don't.”
And for the first time, Luca Santoro looked afraid.
---