Chapter 7 - THE HOSPITAL ROOM WITH NO PATIENTDante reached St. Catherine's Medical Center seventeen minutes after Adrian Cross ended the call.
He did not remember the drive.
He remembered the rain striking the windshield.
He remembered Marco speaking urgently into his phone.
And he remembered a single terrible thought repeating in his mind.
Not Isabella. Not again.
Two police vehicles were parked outside the emergency entrance.
Dante ran past them.
A security officer tried to stop him.
"Sir, you can't—"
"My wife is upstairs."
Something in Dante's voice made the officer step aside.
The elevator seemed impossibly slow.
When its doors finally opened on the fourth floor, Dante saw three police officers outside Isabella's room.
One was speaking into a radio.
Another stood beside a nurse who looked close to tears.
Dante's stomach dropped.
"Where is she?"
The nearest officer stepped forward.
"Mr. Moretti, please remain calm."
"Where is my wife?"
"We're investigating an unauthorized transfer."
Dante stared.
"Transfer?"
The officer hesitated.
"Your wife was removed from her room approximately thirty minutes ago."
Dante felt the world tilt.
"Removed by whom?"
"Two individuals wearing hospital identification badges."
"And nobody stopped them?"
"They presented a medical transport order."
Dante looked through the open doorway.
The hospital bed was empty.
Isabella's silver bracelet lay on the bedside table.
Dante had given it to her on their first anniversary.
He picked it up.
His hands were shaking.
Marco entered behind him.
"Boss, we're reviewing the cameras."
Dante turned.
"Find her."
"We will."
"Now."
Marco hurried away.
A doctor approached.
"Mr. Moretti, I'm Dr. Ruiz's colleague, Dr. Patel. I need you to understand that your wife was medically stable when she was last examined."
Dante looked at him.
"She was injured. She's pregnant. She was frightened. And someone took her out of a secured hospital."
His voice cracked on the last words.
Dr. Patel lowered his eyes.
"I'm very sorry."
Dante turned away.
Then his phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
He answered immediately.
"Where is she?"
A woman's voice whispered:
"Dante?"
His heart stopped.
"Isabella?"
"I'm okay."
He nearly collapsed with relief.
"Where are you?"
"I can't tell you yet."
"Why?"
"Because they're listening."
Dante looked toward the doorway.
"Who's listening?"
"Adrian."
His jaw tightened.
"Did he hurt you?"
"No. Not since the gala."
"Isabella—"
"Please listen. I wasn't taken against my will."
Dante went completely still.
"What?"
"I left."
He stared at the empty bed.
"You left with two strangers?"
"They weren't strangers."
Dante couldn't speak.
Isabella continued.
"One of them works for your mother."
He closed his eyes.
"Lucia?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you call me first?"
"Because someone switched my medical records."
Dante frowned.
"What?"
"The file Adrian mentioned. I checked it after you left."
He sat down slowly.
"Tell me."
"My blood test results had been replaced with another patient's. Someone wanted us to believe the pregnancy was progressing normally, even if something changed."
Dante's heart began pounding.
"Is the baby all right?"
"Yes. Dr. Ruiz repeated the tests at a different facility. The baby is fine."
Dante exhaled shakily.
"But Adrian has someone inside St. Catherine's," Isabella continued. "Someone who can access medical records, transfer orders, and private patient rooms."
Dante looked toward Dr. Patel.
The doctor was speaking quietly with a nurse.
"Who?"
"We're not sure."
"Then where are you going?"
"To your mother."
Dante stood.
"No."
"Dante—"
"You're injured. You're pregnant. You've already been threatened."
"And there's a five-year-old little girl who may be my daughter."
His anger vanished.
She continued.
"If I wait for everyone else to solve this, they could move her again."
Dante pressed his fingers against his forehead.
"Let me come with you."
A long silence followed.
Then Isabella whispered:
"I want you there."
His eyes closed.
"But I need you to promise something."
"Anything."
"Your mother says she has evidence that could bring down every person responsible. If you use violence, they'll make this about you instead of the children."
Dante swallowed.
He knew she was right.
"Then we use the law."
Isabella began crying.
"Promise?"
"I promise."
She gave him an address.
Rosewood Behavioral Institute.
Lake Geneva, Wisconsin.
And one final warning.
"Don't tell Salvatore. Don't tell Beatrice. And don't bring anyone whose loyalty you haven't verified."
Dante looked through the hospital window.
The city stretched beneath a gray morning sky.
"Isabella?"
"Yes?"
"I love you."
Her breath caught.
"I love you too."
"And when this is over, I'm taking you somewhere nobody knows our names."
She laughed softly through her tears.
"Somewhere warm?"
"Anywhere you want."
"Then find me first."
The call ended.
Two hours later, Dante arrived at Rosewood.
The facility stood behind tall iron gates, surrounded by acres of woodland.
It looked more like an elegant country estate than a medical institution.
White columns framed the entrance.
A fountain stood in the circular driveway.
And every window reflected the cold November sky.
Jonathan Vale met Dante on the front steps.
The attorney was seventy-one, with silver hair and a cautious expression.
"Mr. Moretti."
"Where's my wife?"
"Inside."
"Is she safe?"
"Yes."
"My mother?"
"Waiting."
Dante looked toward the doors.
For a moment, he couldn't move.
He had imagined seeing his mother again a thousand times after her supposed death.
In dreams, she always looked the way he remembered.
Dark hair.
Gentle smile.
Warm hands.
Now he was about to meet a woman whose life had been stolen from her.
Jonathan seemed to understand.
"She knows you're here."
Dante nodded.
"Take me to her."
They passed through a long corridor lined with photographs of gardens.
At the end stood a set of double doors.
Jonathan opened them.
Inside, a woman sat beside a fireplace.
She wore a blue cardigan.
Her hair was white.
Her hands trembled slightly around a porcelain teacup.
When the doors opened, she looked up.
Dante stopped breathing.
"Mom?"
The woman stared at him.
The teacup slipped from her hands.
It shattered against the floor.
For one terrible second, neither moved.
Then Lucia Moretti began crying.
"My little boy."
Dante crossed the room.
He fell to his knees beside her chair.
She touched his face with trembling fingers.
"Oh, Dante."
He buried his face against her shoulder.
And the feared mafia boss of Chicago sobbed like the twelve-year-old child he had once been.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Lucia held him tightly.
"For what, sweetheart?"
"I didn't find you."
She kissed his forehead.
"You were a child."
"I should have known."
"No."
She lifted his face.
"Listen to me. You were never supposed to carry your father's sins."
Dante began crying harder.
Lucia held him until his breathing slowed.
Then she whispered something that made him look up.
"I've waited so long to tell you the truth."
Dante wiped his face.
"About Father?"
"About everything."
She glanced toward the adjoining room.
"Your wife is waiting."
Dante stood.
"And the little girl?"
Lucia smiled through her tears.
"She's here."
His heart pounded.
"Does Isabella know?"
"Not yet."
Lucia reached for his hand.
"Come with me."
They crossed the room together.
Beyond the next doorway was a sunlit playroom.
A tiny girl sat at a wooden table.
Dark curls fell across her shoulders.
She was drawing butterflies with colored pencils.
Isabella stood near the window, crying silently.
The little girl looked up.
Her eyes moved from Dante to Isabella.
Then she smiled.
"Grandma Lucia?"
Lucia stepped forward.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
The child pointed at Isabella.
"Is that the lady from my photograph?"
Lucia nodded.
"Yes."
The girl looked at Isabella again.
Her small face became serious.
May you like
Then she asked the question that shattered every heart in the room.
"Are you my mommy, or are you going to leave me too?"
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