Chapter 4 - AVA SAID HER MOTHER HAD BEEN RUNNING FROM THE MORETTI FAMILY FOR SEVENTEEN YEARS
Sebastian did not enter Ava’s room until she asked.
It took six hours.
I almost expected him to pace a trench into the NICU floor.
Instead, he stayed with Jonah.
Fed him tiny measured amounts through tube when the nurse instructed.
Learned how to change a diaper around monitoring wires.
Failed the first time.
“Too loose,” Nurse Patel told him.
Sebastian looked offended.
“He weighs four pounds.”
“He can still leak.”
The city’s most feared man redid a premature infant’s diaper while three nurses pretended not to enjoy the moment.
At four in the afternoon, Ava’s social worker asked me to bring Jonah down for supervised reunion.
Sebastian immediately stood.
“Can I come?”
“No.”
He accepted.
The reunion hurt to watch.
Ava’s face crumpled the moment Jonah entered.
She had given birth only five days earlier.
Her body still recovering.
Her child still under four and a half pounds.
She reached through isolette access and touched his foot because the medical team did not yet want him out for long.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Jonah moved his toes.
“I’m so sorry, baby.”
I stood nearby.
“No apologies to him.”
She looked at me.
“You kept him safe.”
“I left him.”
“You left him where doctors could protect him while you were being followed.”
Her eyes filled.
“That’s different.”
Maybe she needed to hear.
An hour later, Ava requested Sebastian.
He entered alone.
No jacket.
No watch.
The infant bracelet visible.
Ava stared at it.
“My mother said you still wore it.”
Sebastian stopped.
“How would she know?”
“She saw you once.”
“When?”
“Three years after Gabriel died.”
His face changed.
“Where?”
“Albany.”
“She never contacted me.”
“She tried.”
Ava’s voice hardened.
“Your people stopped her.”
Sebastian went still.
“My people?”
“She went to your office.”
“Which?”
“Moretti Shipping.”
He closed eyes briefly.
“Vincent ran security.”
“Yes.”
She reached toward water with good hand.
I helped.
Sebastian did not.
Good.
Ava continued.
“My mother spent seventeen years convinced that if she got close to you, Vincent would find us.”
“Why didn’t she go to police?”
“She did.”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened.
“What happened?”
“An officer came to apartment.”
Another.
“Two days later, Vincent’s man knew exactly what she told him.”
Corruption.
Not surprising in Sebastian’s world.
Not fair either.
“She stopped trusting anyone.”
“What did she see that night?”
Ava looked at him for a long time.
“Mom said Gabriel was stable.”
Sebastian’s face tightened.
“She was preparing his feeding.”
Another.
“A man came through staff entrance using family security badge.”
“Vincent.”
“Yes.”
“He wasn’t alone.”
“Who?”
“Dr. Malcolm Pierce.”
My stomach turned.
Board chairman.
Ava continued.
“Pierce told Mom Gabriel’s cardiology plan had changed.”
“Changed how?”
“She didn’t know.”
“He asked for her badge to retrieve medication because his own access had been suspended after a dispensing error.”
I frowned.
“That should never happen.”
“I know.”
“She gave it?”
Ava nodded.
“She trusted doctor.”
“Then?”
“Pierce prepared syringe.”
Another.
“Vincent stayed beside him.”
Another.
“Mom went to check another infant.”
Her eyes filled.
“When she came back, Gabriel’s monitor alarmed.”
Sebastian’s face went gray.
“She saw Pierce disconnect something from line.”
He gripped chair.
“She called code.”
“Yes.”
“Did she know what had been given?”
“Not then.”
“Why tell me later he didn’t die from infection?”
“She checked cabinet access.”
Another.
“Found her badge used for drug she never administered.”
Exactly.
“She printed record.”
“Where?”
“Took home.”
“Then?”
“Pierce confronted her before shift ended.”
“How did he know?”
“Vincent.”
Sebastian’s eyes turned cold.
Ava continued.
“Mom lied and said she’d printed nothing.”
“Did they believe?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“She called you three days after funeral.”
“I remember.”
“She planned meet.”
“Yes.”
“Vincent’s men followed her.”
Sebastian’s hands shook.
“She took me and left.”
“Where?”
“Buffalo first. Then Vermont.”
“Seventeen years.”
“Yes.”
“Why keep evidence?”
“Because she couldn’t live with doing nothing.”
Ava’s voice broke.
“But she was terrified.”
I understood.
Courage is not absence of fear.
Sometimes it is keeping a drive hidden for seventeen years.
Sebastian whispered:
“What was on it?”
“Cabinet log.”
“Recording?”
Ava nodded.
“Mom bought tiny recorder after Pierce threatened.”
“When?”
“The morning after Gabriel died.”
“She recorded Vincent?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Ava looked toward me.
Then at Sebastian.
“He told her she had two choices.”
“Which?”
“Take two hundred thousand dollars and disappear.”
A pause.
“Or stay and watch her daughter disappear first.”
Sebastian looked physically ill.
Ava continued.
“She took the money.”
Silence.
Then quickly:
“She never spent it.”
Sebastian looked.
“It stayed in account.”
Another.
“She used her own wages.”
Another.
“She said taking it made her feel guilty enough to keep running.”
Sebastian stared.
“She blamed herself.”
“For giving badge.”
“It wasn’t her fault.”
Ava’s eyes flashed.
“She knew that eventually.”
Another.
“But knowing and feeling aren’t same.”
True.
“How did you end up here?”
Ava exhaled.
“When Mom died eight months ago, she left instructions.”
“Why wait?”
“I was pregnant.”
Another.
“Alone.”
“Father?”
“Not involved.”
She did not elaborate.
Nobody pushed.
“She told me not to do anything until after baby born.”
“But you went to box three weeks ago.”
“Yes.”
“Early.”
“Jonah wasn’t supposed to come until January.”
Premature labor changed timeline.
“I opened box. Found everything.”
“Then?”
“I contacted Moretti corporate.”
“Who answered?”
“Vincent’s office.”
Sebastian cursed quietly.
“I said I had information about Gabriel.”
“And?”
“They asked for name.”
“You gave?”
“Yes.”
“Ava.”
“I didn’t know.”
She looked furious at herself.
“Two days later, someone broke into apartment.”
“Did they take drive?”
“No. I kept it at friend’s.”
“Then labor.”
“Yes.”
She had been frightened, bleeding, contracting at twenty-nine weeks.
A neighbor called ambulance.
Pine Valley closest.
She gave birth.
Then forty-eight hours later, a man entered postpartum room posing as patient advocate.
“He showed me picture of Jonah.”
My skin chilled.
“In NICU.”
“Yes.”
“Taken when?”
“That morning.”
“He said if I contacted Sebastian again, the baby would be transferred somewhere nobody could find.”
“St. Agnes.”
“He named it.”
Ava cried.
“I thought if I stayed, he could use me to get Jonah.”
“So you left.”
“I sewed note into blanket.”
“Why Sebastian?”
“Mom said if truth ever reached him directly—not family office—he would protect baby.”
Sebastian looked away.
That faith hurt him.
Ava continued.
“I mailed drive from post office.”
“To corporate office.”
“Yes.”
“Because it required his signature.”
Sebastian laughed bitterly.
“Vincent has signing authority.”
“I didn’t know.”
“No.”
He turned to window.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then he asked:
“Who attacked you?”
“Same man from hospital.”
“Name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you identify?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
No promise of violence.
I noticed.
Ava did too.
“Sebastian.”
He looked.
“My mother didn’t hate you.”
His face changed.
“She should have.”
“No.”
“She thought you were another victim.”
That word looked wrong on him.
“Of Vincent?”
“Of family.”
Ava’s gaze went to bracelet.
“She said you stayed three days beside Gabriel after he died because you couldn’t let staff take him away.”
I looked at Sebastian.
He had never told me that.
Ava continued.
“She saw you.”
His jaw trembled.
“She said you kept telling him you were sorry.”
He closed eyes.
“I was.”
“For what?”
“I left the hospital four hours that night.”
“Why?”
“My father demanded meeting.”
Another.
“Dock problem.”
Another.
“I thought Gabriel was improving.”
His voice cracked.
“When I came back, he was dying.”
There.
The guilt.
Seventeen years condensed into four hours.
Ava said:
“My mother said you couldn’t have known.”
Sebastian looked at her.
“Your mother could not have known either.”
They sat with that.
Two families.
Two guilt stories.
Same criminal.
Then Marco called.
Sebastian answered.
His face hardened.
“Where?”
He listened.
Then:
“Do not confront.”
That surprised me again.
“Send warrant information to Detective Ortiz.”
He ended.
“What?”
Sebastian looked at Ava.
“The man who followed you from hospital was identified.”
“Who?”
“Daniel Kreel.”
She flinched.
Recognized face.
“Works for?”
Sebastian’s mouth tightened.
“Moretti corporate security.”
Ava went white.
“Under Vincent?”
“Yes.”
Sebastian stood.
Then stopped.
He looked at me.
I knew what he wanted.
Permission?
No.
Restraint.
“Truth first,” I reminded.
His eyes burned.
“Truth first.”
Then he walked out to call federal counsel.
Not hitmen.
I realized how hard that choice cost him.
An hour later, another crisis arrived.
Pine Valley’s board chairman, Dr. Malcolm Pierce, issued an order suspending my access to archived neonatal records pending “privacy review.”
My badge stopped working in medical-records office.
I stared at reader.
Then at hospital email.
ADMINISTRATIVE LEAVE EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.
Apparently I had become inconvenient.
Sebastian read notice over my shoulder.
His face darkened.
“I’ll fix this.”
“No.”
He looked.
“It’s retaliation.”
“Probably.”
“I own twelve percent of hospital bond issue.”
I stared.
“That sentence is exactly why you are not fixing it.”
“Mara.”
“I have union counsel.”
“You’re not union management.”
“I have professional association counsel.”
Another.
“Hospital compliance.”
Another.
“State nursing board protections.”
He looked personally offended by bureaucracy.
“Use lawyers,” I said.
“I have lawyers.”
“For me?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
I picked up my bag.
“You’re leaving?”
“I’m suspended.”
“What about Jonah?”
“Nurse Patel is excellent.”
“About Ava?”
“Social worker.”
He looked as though floor shifted.
I understood.
He had grown used to me being there.
So had I.
“Sebastian.”
“Yes?”
“Do not make me necessary so you can avoid trusting anyone else.”
His expression changed.
Good.
“I’ll call you.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to.”
Different.
I smiled slightly.
“Then ask for my number like normal person.”
He stared.
Then:
“Mara Bennett, may I have your number?”
I laughed.
“You already got it from volunteer file.”
“I deleted.”
“You did not.”
“I can.”
“Do that.”
His mouth twitched.
I wrote number on scrap paper.
He took it.
“Truth first,” I said.
Then left.
Two hours later, Sebastian called.
Not about romance.
Not even Ava.
His voice was dangerously calm.
“Pierce destroyed part of Gabriel’s original chart seventeen years ago.”
My stomach tightened.
“How do you know?”
“IT archive.”
Another.
“And Mara?”
“Yes?”
“The deletion was authorized from Vincent’s office thirty minutes after Gabriel died.”
The people who killed a premature infant had not simply hidden from Sebastian.
May you like
They had helped him build his empire for seventeen more years.
And now one of them had just tried to remove me from the hospital before I could keep looking.
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