“Who protects him then?”

From the adjacent room, the soft, rhythmic beep of Luca’s heart monitor drifted through the open door.

Dr. Sullivan was in there, watching over our boy, but the sound was a fragile reminder of how close we were to losing everything.

“Hensley delayed his treatment on purpose,” Giovanni muttered, his voice shaking with restrained fury.

“She almost let our baby die to please Marcus Vance.”

“She deserves to rot,” I agreed.

“But she deserves to do it in a prison cell, exposed to the entire city.”

“We have the logs.”

“We have the email correspondence between her private account and Vance’s shell company.”

Giovanni looked at the desk, where the printed documents lay under the glow of a green shaded lamp.

“The police won’t act fast enough,” he said.

“Vance has people on the payroll.”

“Then we go to the feds,” I said, stepping closer to him.

“We go to the district attorney.”

“We use the media if we have to.”

“But we do it the right way, Giovanni.”

“No blood.”