The white marble table felt unusually cold beneath Dominic’s palms. The small pediatric hospital bracelet bearing the name Rose Reyes lay between his untouched cup of tea and the cream-colored envelope like a physical piece of evidence from a trial he thought he had won years ago

The ambulance bay at South Boston General was bathed in the harsh, flickering glare of fluorescent lights and the spinning red pulse of emergency vehicle beacons. Slush and frozen rain coated the tarmac, crunching beneath the heavy boots of paramedics wheeling stretchers through automatic doors that never seemed to close.

Dominic’s black sedan pulled up directly behind a marked police cruiser, ignoring the No Parking signs. Victor cut the engine before the car had even fully settled.

In the back seat, Lily and Rose were quiet now, exhaustion finally catching up to their adrenaline. Rose had fallen asleep with her head against Lily’s pink coat, her thumb tucked securely against her cheek while her other arm remained locked around the faceless rabbit.

Dominic turned around in the passenger seat, looking back at the two children.

“Lily,” he said softly.

The older girl blinked, fighting off her own fatigue. “Yes, Mr. Ashford?”

“When Mr. Alvarez takes you home tonight, tell Maria to lock the deadbolts. Don't open the door for anyone unless it’s me or Victor.”

Lily’s eyes widened slightly. “Is someone looking for you?”

“People are always looking for me, kid,” Dominic replied, his expression unreadable. “That’s why your sister shouldn't have involved herself in my ledger.”

“She wasn't looking for trouble,” Lily said defensively, her chin lifting. “She was looking for peace of mind. She said men who carry ghosts never sleep, and she wanted to see if the ghost had a face.”

Dominic let out a low, humorless chuckle. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a heavy titanium card embossed with a private phone number, and handed it across the seat.

“If anyone knocks on your door who isn’t wearing a badge or carrying a grocery bag, you call this number. Victor will answer.”

Lily took the card, her small fingers tracing the raised metallic edges. She nodded solemnly. “Okay.”

“Victor,” Dominic ordered as he opened his door and stepped out into the biting winter air. “Take them back to the apartment on 4th Street. Sweep the perimeter. Check the back alley. I don't want anyone within a block of them until dawn.”

“Consider it done,” Victor said from the driver’s seat.

Dominic slammed the door shut, the heavy thud swallowed by the chaotic symphony of sirens and shouting medics. He pulled his wool coat tighter around his neck and strode toward the sliding glass doors of the emergency entrance.

The security guard near the triage desk took one look at Dominic’s tailored suit, the cold calculation in his slate-gray eyes, and the faint scar running along his jawline, and immediately pressed himself flat against the wall to let him pass. People in South Boston knew that face. They knew it meant either total ruin or final safety, and no one was ever foolish enough to ask which one was walking through the door tonight.

Dominic bypassed the waiting room, where families sat with pale faces and bandaged limbs, and headed straight down the secure corridor marked Authorized Personnel Only.

The doors swung open into the high-octane environment of the trauma ward. Monitors beeped in rhythmic, frantic intervals. Nurses in royal blue scrubs moved with practiced urgency, pushing carts loaded with saline bags, gauze, and surgical instruments.

And right in the middle of it all, directing a team of three residents around a stainless-steel trauma bay, stood Elena Reyes.

She didn't look like a woman who had planned a romantic blind date at the Ivory Cup. Her hair was pulled back into a tight, practical bun, secured with a yellow pencil. A stethoscope hung loosely around her neck, and her scrubs were stained with the unmistakable dark smudge of dried disinfectant and grease from the school bus accident.

Yet, even under the harsh, unflattering glow of overhead surgical lights, Dominic felt the exact same jolt he had experienced years ago when he first saw her name on a hospital donation ledger.

She was radiant, composed, and entirely unfazed by the chaos surrounding her.

“Check the pupillary reflex again,” Elena instructed a younger male resident, her voice clear, calm, and carrying an absolute authority that commanded instant obedience. “If the dilation doesn't stabilize in two minutes, prep for a secondary cranial scan.”

“Got it, Charge Nurse Reyes,” the resident nodded frantically.

Elena turned to move toward the supply cart, and as she spun around, her eyes met Dominic’s across the crowded trauma room.