Chapter 8 - The Man Behind the Hospital Walls
Luca stabilized.
That was the only reason Sebastian Moretti remained inside the NICU instead of tearing Pine Valley apart.
Dr. Patel caught the medication error quickly.
The changed infusion rate had only run for seconds.
Luca's numbers returned to normal.
Isabella sat beside the incubator, one hand pressed against the glass.
Sebastian stood behind her.
He didn't touch her.
He simply stayed.
Detective Morrison locked down the neonatal floor.
No visitors.
No nonessential staff.
Every badge access logged.
Every elevator monitored.
For the first time since I'd met him, Sebastian allowed someone else to control the situation.
Mostly.
“Your men stay outside,” Morrison told him.
“They are outside.”
“They remain outside.”
“If Caruso is inside—”
“If Caruso is inside, my officers handle it.”
Sebastian smiled coldly.
“You've been trying to arrest me for fifteen years. Surely you've learned I'm bad at taking orders.”
Isabella turned.
“Dad.”
Everyone froze.
Sebastian did too.
It was the first time she'd called him that.
Her face suggested she hadn't meant to.
Sebastian looked as though the word had physically hit him.
Isabella swallowed.
“Please.”
His entire posture softened.
“Okay.”
Morrison looked impressed.
“I need to borrow her.”
Sebastian pointed at Isabella.
“You have found the only effective law-enforcement strategy.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Then Morrison's radio crackled.
“Possible unauthorized access, basement pharmacy corridor.”
He moved immediately.
I followed.
Sebastian stayed with Isabella.
That mattered more than he probably understood.
The basement corridor smelled like disinfectant and concrete.
Two officers stood beside an open network closet.
A hospital IT technician crouched near a disconnected cable.
“What happened?” Morrison asked.
“Someone installed a remote access device.”
“When?”
“Could've been weeks ago.”
“Can you identify it?”
“Commercial hardware. Nothing special.”
I looked around.
At the end of the hallway was an old service elevator.
A memory surfaced.
“Wait.”
Morrison looked at me.
“What?”
“Procedure Room C.”
“What about it?”
“Seventeen years ago Isabella was moved there during the blackout.”
“So?”
“It's on this level.”
We followed old signs through a storage wing Pine Valley barely used anymore.
Procedure Room C had been converted into archive space.
The door was locked.
Morrison called facilities.
No response.
One officer forced it open.
Inside were dusty shelves.
Old equipment.
Cardboard boxes.
And a chair.
A modern chair.
Beside it sat a paper coffee cup still warm.
Someone had been there recently.
Morrison drew his weapon.
“Police. Show yourself.”
No answer.
At the far wall, a storage cabinet stood slightly open.
An officer approached.
Empty.
Then I noticed fresh marks across the floor.
“The cabinet moved.”
Morrison looked.
Two officers pushed it aside.
Behind it was an old service door.
I had worked at Pine Valley thirteen years and never knew it existed.
It opened into a narrow maintenance corridor.
Morrison swore.
“Where does this go?”
The IT technician checked building plans.
“Old boiler access. Loading dock. Possibly elevator shafts.”
“Possibly?”
“The hospital has been renovated six times.”
Morrison radioed his officers.
Then something on the chair caught my attention.
A photograph.
I picked it up carefully by the edge.
Sebastian.
Recent.
Sitting in bed nine with Luca against his chest.
Taken less than twenty-four hours earlier.
Someone had photographed him through the NICU glass.
On the back, one sentence was written:
A Moretti always returns to the same weakness.
Morrison's face changed.
“This isn't about Luca.”
“No.”
I looked at the photograph.
“It's about Sebastian.”
We rushed upstairs.
Sebastian was still beside Isabella.
He read the note once.
Then his expression became unreadable.
“Caruso.”
“You're sure?” Morrison asked.
“He used to say weakness was hereditary.”
Isabella looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
Sebastian hesitated.
“My father died because he came back for me.”
The room went quiet.
“How old were you?”
“Nineteen.”
“What happened?”
“Caruso's people took me.”
Isabella stared.
“You were kidnapped?”
“Yes.”
“And your father came?”
“Yes.”
“Did he save you?”
Sebastian looked away.
“He died trying.”
Her face changed.
“So Caruso thinks you'll do the same for me.”
“Yes.”
“And Luca.”
“Yes.”
She sat straighter.
“Then we leave.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because that's what he wants.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wants movement. Confusion. A transport route he can control.”
Morrison nodded.
“For once, I agree.”
Sebastian looked offended.
“Don't get used to it.”
Margaret spoke from the corner.
“There may be another reason.”
Everyone looked at her.
She held Elena's letter with both hands.
“Dominic knew Isabella was alive before she came to the hospital.”
“How?” Morrison asked.
Margaret looked ashamed.
“Me.”
Sebastian's eyes narrowed.
“What did you do?”
“Eight months ago, Isabella became sick.”
“I wasn't sick,” Isabella said. “I was pregnant.”
“I didn't know that yet.”
Margaret continued.
“She needed bloodwork. I panicked when the clinic asked for family history.”
“So?”
“I contacted Evan.”
Vale.
“He told me Pine Valley still had some neonatal records. He said he could check for inherited conditions.”
Sebastian understood first.
“You reopened the file.”
Margaret nodded.
“And somebody saw.”
“Yes.”
“Caruso.”
“I think so.”
Morrison rubbed his forehead.
“So Caruso follows Margaret, learns Isabella is pregnant, waits until the baby is born, then targets the hospital?”
Margaret nodded.
“Why wait?” I asked.
Sebastian answered.
“Because he doesn't just want to kill me.”
Isabella flinched.
Sebastian corrected himself.
“He wants to prove something.”
“What?”
“That I will become my father.”
He looked at the photograph.
“He wants me to run into a trap for my child.”
Isabella stared at him.
“Would you?”
Sebastian looked directly at her.
“Yes.”
“Dad.”
“I said I wouldn't lie.”
Her eyes filled.
“But I don't have to do it his way.”
That was the Sebastian I hadn't expected.
Not harmless.
Not redeemed.
But trying.
Morrison's radio crackled again.
“Detective, we found a man in the east stairwell.”
“Description?”
“Sixties, maybe seventies. No badge.”
Sebastian stood.
Morrison raised a hand.
“Stay here.”
The radio continued.
“Suspect is requesting Sebastian Moretti.”
Every face turned.
Morrison pressed the button.
“Name?”
Static.
Then:
“Dominic Caruso.”
Isabella grabbed Sebastian's sleeve.
“No.”
He looked at her hand.
“I'll stay.”
Morrison stared.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You're not going to meet him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Sebastian looked at Isabella.
“Because seventeen years ago every adult in her life decided that protecting her required taking choices away.”
He sat beside her.
“I won't repeat it.”
Isabella's eyes filled.
Then a voice came through the intercom.
Not Morrison's radio.
The hospital public-address system.
An old man's voice.
Calm.
Almost amused.
“Sebastian.”
Every person in the NICU froze.
“I wondered how long it would take you to understand.”
Security tried to cut the audio.
It continued.
“You lost your father because he loved you.”
Sebastian's face hardened.
“You lost your wife because she loved your daughter.”
Isabella grabbed his hand.
“And now…”
The voice paused.
“…you get to decide how many people you lose because you refuse to come downstairs.”
Sebastian's phone buzzed.
A text message.
One image.
Noah.
Tied to a chair.
Sebastian looked toward the hallway.
Isabella gasped.
“Noah!”
Morrison swore.
Noah had been moved earlier to a secured family waiting room.
Somehow Caruso had taken him.
Another message appeared.
LOADING DOCK B. FIVE MINUTES. ALONE.
Isabella began crying.
“Please get him.”
Sebastian stood.
Morrison blocked the door.
“No.”
“He has the boy.”
“That's exactly why you don't walk into the trap.”
Isabella looked between them.
“Then what do we do?”
Morrison spoke quickly.
“We use cameras. Teams from both sides. Lock exits.”
Sebastian shook his head.
“He'll see uniforms.”
“Your answer is not to walk down there alone.”
Sebastian looked at Isabella.
She was terrified.
Then he reached into his jacket.
Morrison's officers tensed.
Sebastian slowly removed his phone and handed it to him.
Then his watch.
Then the ring on his right hand.
“No weapons.”
Morrison stared.
“What are you doing?”
“What he expects.”
Isabella stood.
“You promised.”
“I promised not to make you inherit a war.”
“That doesn't mean die.”
“I don't intend to.”
He touched her face.
She didn't pull away.
“Seventeen years ago, I would have gone downstairs angry.”
His eyes moved toward Luca.
“Tonight I'm going down as a father.”
“That sounds exactly like the same thing.”
“No.”
He gave her the faintest smile.
“A father comes back.”
Then he walked toward the door.
Isabella grabbed my hand.
“Don't let him go alone.”
I looked at Morrison.
He sighed.
“He isn't.”
Sebastian stopped.
Morrison pointed to his earpiece.
“Congratulations, Moretti.”
He handed Sebastian a tiny transmitter.
“For the next five minutes, you're working for me.”
Sebastian stared at it.
“I would rather be shot.”
Morrison almost smiled.
May you like
“Try not to be.”
And together they headed toward Loading Dock B.
