Arthur Sullivan entered the hospital surrounded by two detectives, an assistant district attorney, and enough authority to make hospital staff step aside.

He was immaculate.

Gray overcoat.

Perfect tie.

Concerned expression.

“My wife was brought here.”

Richard Blaine nodded nervously.

“She’s receiving treatment.”

Arthur moved toward the elevators.

Dante Corvino stepped out of the hallway.

Arthur stopped.

The two men stared at each other.

“Corvino.”

“Sullivan.”

Arthur’s expression barely changed.

“What are you doing here?”

Dante buttoned his jacket.

“Visiting someone.”

“My wife?”

“Yes.”

Arthur glanced toward Dante’s men.

“Interesting.”

“What’s interesting,” Dante replied, “is that your pregnant wife arrived barefoot, injured, and alone, and somehow you’re more interested in why I’m here than what happened to her.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened.

“Move.”

“No.”

“I’m her husband.”

“And she specifically told the doctors she doesn’t want you near her.”

Arthur looked toward Richard.

“Is that true?”

Dr. Boyd answered from behind Dante.

“Yes.”

Arthur smiled without warmth.

“My wife is medicated and confused.”

“She was lucid when she said it,” Boyd replied.

Arthur’s eyes returned to Dante.

“You think standing in a hospital makes you untouchable?”

“No.”

Dante stepped closer.

“I think the security cameras make both of us behave.”

Arthur almost smiled.

Then Sarah came running.

“Doctor!”

Boyd turned.

“What happened?”

“Fetal distress.”

Dante forgot Arthur existed.

He followed Boyd toward Nora’s room.

Arthur tried to follow.

Two hospital security officers blocked him.

“Sir.”

“That’s my wife!”

Richard swallowed.

“She refused contact.”

Arthur’s polished mask finally cracked.

“Get out of my way.”

Dante turned from twenty feet away.

“No.”

Arthur stared at him.

Dante pointed toward the lobby.

“Go home.”

“You don’t give orders to me.”

“Tonight I do.”

Arthur left thirty seconds later.

But Dante knew men like Arthur.

They rarely accepted closed doors.

Inside Trauma One, Nora was awake.

Boyd examined the monitor.

“The baby’s heart rate is recovering.”

Nora looked at Dante.

“Did he leave?”

“Yes.”

“He’ll come back.”

“Then we’ll still be here.”

Boyd glanced between them.

“We need to discuss delivery. You’ve experienced significant trauma, and I don’t want to wait if the baby becomes unstable again.”

Nora nodded.

“Do whatever keeps him safe.”

Boyd left to prepare the obstetric team.

Dante sat beside her.

“Tell me about the ledger.”

Nora closed her eyes.

“I started noticing money disappearing from Arthur’s campaign accounts. Small amounts first. Then millions through charities and consulting firms.”

“And?”

“One company kept appearing.”

“Name.”

“Halcyon Strategic.”

Dante’s face changed.

“You know it?”

“They’ve been buying warehouses around the South Side.”

“They’re not buying warehouses.”

“What are they doing?”

“Buying access to the freight corridors.”

Nora swallowed.

“Arthur has been protecting them.”

Dante nodded slowly.

“And the ledger?”

“Names. Payments. Dates. Judges, contractors, city officials.”

“Where is it?”

“I copied everything onto a flash drive.”

Dante leaned forward.

“Where?”

Nora looked at him.

“Inside Arthur’s house.”

He stared at her.

“You left evidence that could destroy half the city inside the house of the man it could destroy?”

“I didn’t have time.”

“Where?”

“The nursery.”

Dante almost laughed from disbelief.

“Nora.”

“Arthur never enters it.”

“Why?”

Her expression became painfully quiet.

“Because he knows the baby isn’t his.”

Dante’s anger returned.

“Where exactly?”

“The wooden music box beside the crib. False bottom.”

Dante stood.

“I’ll get it.”

“No.”

“Nora—”

“You can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because Arthur knows I copied the files.”

She looked toward the rain hammering against the windows.

“And if he knows I’m alive, he’s already waiting for someone to go looking.”

Dante took out his phone.

“Marco.”

A voice answered.

“Boss.”

“Nobody enters Sullivan’s house.”

“Understood.”

“And find out where Sullivan went after leaving here.”

A pause.

“We’re already watching.”

Dante ended the call.

Nora stared at him.

“You were always impossible.”

“And you were always terrible at asking for help.”

“I called once.”

“You called a hospital.”

She managed the faintest smile.

“I kept your card.”

Dante looked at her.

“Next time, call the number yourself.”

Her smile vanished.

“There almost wasn’t a next time.”

He reached for her hand.

“There will be now.”

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