“Lauren,” he said, his voice flat and dangerous. “Who did you speak to at the hospital before you brought Luca here?”

“Just the triage staff,” I said, my heart racing. “And Marla Hensley. The administrator.”

Giovanni stared at the screen, his face hardening into stone.

“Marla Hensley,” he repeated, his voice barely a growl.

“Yes,” I said, stepping closer to him. “She delayed Luca’s admission. She kept us waiting in the lobby for hours. Why?”

Giovanni pointed to the screen, where a decrypted transcript was formatting into readable English.

“Because she was waiting for a confirmation,” Giovanni said.

I looked at the screen, my eyes scanning the text of a digital bank transfer dated just three hours ago.

The sender was an offshore shell corporation linked directly to Marcus Vance’s associates.

The recipient was a private account registered to Marla Hensley.

Below the transaction record was a short, sent text message with a timestamp from just after I arrived at Boston General.

*Target is in the lobby with the child. Holding them now. Location confirmed.*

The words on the screen burned into my eyes.