Chapter 2 - THE MRI
Gabriel Moretti entered St. Catherine’s through a private emergency entrance surrounded by security.
Within fifteen minutes, none of that mattered.
Money could clear hallways.
It could hire specialists.
It could give him an entire ICU wing.
It could not change what appeared on the MRI.
The neurosurgeon stared at the images.
Then looked at me.
“You were right to bring him in.”
Luca stood beside me.
“What is it?”
Dr. Rachel Kim pointed toward the screen.
“There’s an infection in the tissues near the lower spine with a collection pressing dangerously close to neural structures.”
Luca’s face hardened.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning his weakness may be partly caused by compression and severe infection.”
“Can you fix it?”
“We need surgery.”
“Tonight?”
“Now.”
Gabriel lay several rooms away receiving IV treatment while anesthesia prepared.
I asked:
“Does the scan show why there’s a second incision?”
Dr. Kim enlarged another image.
“That’s the interesting part.”
I leaned closer.
There was evidence someone had entered the same region recently.
Not an accidental cut.
Not superficial wound care.
A procedure.
“What kind?”
“I can’t responsibly tell you until we operate.”
Luca asked:
“Could it have been medically necessary?”
“Yes.”
“Could it have been related to a shoulder bullet?”
Dr. Kim stared at him.
“No.”
Silence.
Then the hospital compliance officer entered.
She had contacted the private clinic.
Their official record showed one procedure.
Shoulder fragment removal.
No spinal intervention.
No anesthesia time long enough for anything else.
No surgical supplies billed.
Yet Gabriel had a fresh lumbar incision.
Someone had either altered the record—
or performed part of the procedure completely off-book.
Luca’s phone buzzed repeatedly.
He ignored it until I said:
“Answer.”
He looked annoyed.
“Your boss is in surgery preparation. Someone may be actively cleaning evidence. Answer.”
He did.
One of his men.
Vincent Moretti had left his apartment.
His phone was off.
His driver missing.
Then another call.
A Moretti family attorney.
Luca’s face changed.
“What?”
He listened.
“No.”
Pause.
“Who filed it?”
Another pause.
He ended the call.
I waited.
“What happened?”
Luca looked toward Gabriel’s room.
“Vincent filed an emergency petition with the family holding company.”
“For what?”
“To declare Gabriel medically incapacitated.”
My stomach tightened.
“So Vincent can do what?”
“Assume temporary voting authority.”
“How temporary?”
Luca gave me a humorless smile.
“In my world, that usually means until someone decides not to give it back.”
The timing was too perfect.
Gabriel gets shot.
Vincent chooses the clinic.
Gabriel emerges unable to walk.
Medical records hide a second procedure.
Then Vincent moves to take control before Gabriel can recover.
I asked:
“What does Gabriel control?”
“Everything.”
“That’s not specific.”
“Hotels. Construction. Logistics. Property. Restaurants.”
“And the illegal side?”
Luca said nothing.
I didn’t need an answer.
Then Gabriel called my name from inside the room.
I entered.
He was pale beneath the hospital lights.
“I heard.”
“About Vincent?”
“Yes.”
“You need surgery.”
“I know.”
His fingers tightened around the sheet.
“If I don’t wake up—”
“No.”
His eyes hardened.
“Don’t interrupt.”
“I’m absolutely interrupting.”
He stared.
I continued:
“You are going into surgery, not delivering a final monologue.”
For half a second, the corner of his mouth moved.
Then he reached toward me.
This time he did not grab.
He held out his hand.
I took it.
“Do not let Luca kill Vincent.”
I looked toward the doorway.
“Interesting request.”
“Luca thinks loyalty means blood.”
“And what do you think?”
Gabriel’s eyes became heavy.
“I think I need answers.”
The anesthesiologist entered.
Gabriel released my hand.
Then whispered:
“Check Vale’s signature.”
“What?”
“His right hand shakes.”
I frowned.
“How do you know?”
“He stitched me once.”
Then he was wheeled away.
I returned to the records.
Dr. Adrian Vale’s signature was clean.
Smooth.
Perfect.
Too perfect.
I pulled an older hospital consent form with his verified signature from a prior visit.
Slight tremor in the downstroke.
This new signature did not have it.
I looked at Luca.
“I don’t think Vale signed the discharge summary.”
“Who did?”
I enlarged the digital authentication metadata.
User credentials:
A.VALE.
Device identifier:
VM-07.
Luca stared.
“What?”
I asked.
May you like
He whispered:
“Vincent Moretti’s initials.”
