Dr.
Costa entered only after I unlocked the door myself.
He examined my ankle again, photographed the wounds, took blood samples, and documented every mark with the careful precision of someone who understood that my body had become evidence.
“You need a hospital,” he said.
“No Chicago police,” I whispered.
“No Chicago police,” Franco agreed.
“State major crimes.
A prosecutor from outside the district.
You choose whether I stay in the room.”
I studied him.
He was still a Ravellini.
His family name had protected men like Roberto for years.
His money came from businesses no one discussed openly.
Yet he had broken his brother’s door, cut my chain, preserved the basement, and placed evidence in my hands instead of hiding it.
“Stay until they arrive,” I said.
Franco nodded once.
Nicholas contacted an assistant state’s attorney named Lena Ortiz, who arrived with two investigators before dawn.
They wore plain clothes, left their weapons visible, and asked my permission before entering the bedroom.
Ortiz sat in a chair several feet from the bed.
“Megan, you are not under arrest,” she said.
“You are not obligated to answer anything tonight.
We can take you to a protected hospital room, and we can keep the location restricted.”
I looked at Franco.
“Will Roberto know where I am?”
“Not from us,” Ortiz said.
“But I won’t lie to you.
He has resources.”
“So does Franco.”
The prosecutor’s eyes shifted toward him.
“That is one of the subjects we will eventually discuss.”
Franco did not object.
He opened the black folder and slid it across the table.
“Take everything,” he said.
“The house is secured.
My men touched only what was necessary to remove her.
I’ll provide the names of everyone who entered.”
Ortiz studied him.
“This material may expose your companies to investigation.”
“I know.”
“And your brother?”
Franco’s voice went flat.
“Find him before I do.”
I reached out and touched the folder.
“No.”
Everyone looked at me.
I swallowed against the pain in my throat.
“Find him before anyone makes him disappear.
I want him in a courtroom.”
For several seconds, Franco said nothing.
Then he faced Ortiz.
“You heard her.”
The transfer to the hospital happened just before sunrise.
Ortiz arranged an ambulance without identifying markings, and Nicholas rode in a separate vehicle.
Franco remained at the estate because investigators were searching Roberto’s house.
Before the ambulance doors closed, he approached with his jacket folded over one arm.
“You asked how I knew who you were,” he said.
