Dr. Hale began to manipulate my arm, pulling the bone back into alignment.

I gritted my teeth, spots of black dancing in my eyes despite the numbness.

“Paul tried to trade something he did not own to clear his ledger,” Vincent continued.

“He promised Corrado he could deliver information on my shipping docks in Brooklyn.”

“He thought he could use you to get close enough to my business to steal it.”

I shook my head, tears of pain and anger slipping down my cheeks.

“I didn’t know,” I sobbed. “I swear I didn’t know.”

“I know you did not,” Vincent said, his expression softening slightly.

Dr. Hale wrapped a wet plaster bandage around my arm, his movements quick and precise.

The plaster felt warm as it began to harden against my skin.

“The plaster will dry in a few minutes,” Dr. Hale said, his voice entirely unaffected by the gravity of our conversation.

He adjusted a black cloth sling, securing the Velcro strap behind my neck.

“You must rest, Lena,” he added, handing me a small plastic bottle of pills.