Chapter 4 - The Ambush at the Clinic
“A little sleep aid, Chloe?” I murmured, ensuring my voice sounded tiny, broken, and defeated. “You gave prescription sleeping pills to a five-year-old child?”
“It was just half a pill, Jessi! Stop being a drama queen!” Chloe’s facade of tearful remorse cracked instantly, replaced by the venomous entitlement she had displayed her entire life. “You’re always the saint, aren't you? The tireless trauma nurse, the perfect martyr. You think Luca actually loved coming home to your hospital scrubs and your exhausted sighs? He needed a real woman. Someone who supports his business, not someone who counts his receipts!”
“And the baby you’re carrying?” I whispered. “Is that part of your support system?”
The phone line went dead silent. Through the speaker, I could hear Chloe’s breath hitching, followed by a muffled scuffle as the phone was violently ripped from her hand.
“Jessi, listen to me right now,” Luca’s voice boomed through the speaker, low and threatening. “You think you’re smart because you stole my lockbox? Those papers mean nothing. My name is on the house, my name is on the bank accounts, and my father will have an emergency custody order signed by Judge Miller before noon. If you don’t bring Fiona to my office at the downtown clinic in one hour, I will report your car stolen and tell the press that a drug-addicted nurse abducted my daughter.”
“Try it, Luca,” I said coldly.
“One hour, Jessi,” he growled. “Or I will ruin every single thing you have ever worked for.”
He hung up.
Marcus shut off the recording software and slid his tablet into his coat pocket. “The fool just admitted knowledge of the drugging and attempted extortion on an interstate digital line. That bypasses his father’s county cronies and puts this square under federal jurisdiction.”
“He mentioned his downtown clinic,” I said, turning to Elena. “Luca’s private medical consulting firm handles high-end cosmetic laser equipment. But three weeks ago, I saw crates arriving at his clinic from a shell logistics firm in Panama. At the time, I thought it was just imported skincare serums. But if he has offshore accounts with Chloe…”
Elena’s eyes widened. “He’s using the clinic for money laundering.”
“Not just laundering,” Marcus said, standing up. “Tax evasion, fraud, and illegal distribution. Jessi, we are going to his clinic. Not to surrender Fiona—she stays here under armed private guard with Elena. We are going to make Luca think his intimidation worked just long enough for the forensic auditors to freeze his assets.”
An hour later, I stepped out of a cab in front of the gleaming glass facade of Luca’s downtown clinic. I wore my wrinkled scrubs from the night before, my hair pulled back in a messy knot. I looked exactly like the broken, helpless woman Luca expected to see.
I pushed through the frosted glass doors into the marble lobby. The receptionist, a young girl hired by Chloe last summer, looked up with wide, terrified eyes and immediately picked up the intercom. “She’s here.”
Within seconds, the double mahogany doors of the executive suite flew open. Luca stepped out, looking immaculate in a tailored charcoal suit, his jaw tight with arrogant triumph. Behind him trailed Chloe, wearing a designer cashmere sweater that barely concealed the subtle swell of her lower abdomen.
“Where is Fiona?” Luca demanded, marching toward me, his hand outstretched. “Where is my daughter, Jessi?”
“She’s somewhere warm,” I said, clutching my scrub jacket around myself as if shivering. “Somewhere you can never poison her again.”
Chloe stepped forward, sneering. “Cut the crap, Jessi. Give him the keys to the lockbox and sign the temporary custody waiver, and we won’t press charges for grand larceny. You can keep your little nursing job, and we’ll let you see Fiona every other weekend.”
“You really think you’ve won, don’t you, Chloe?” I looked at my younger sister, searching for an ounce of the little girl I used to shield from our father’s drunken rages. There was nothing left—only greed and vain cruelty.
“I have won,” Chloe whispered, stepping into my personal space, her eyes gleaming with malice. “I took your husband, I’m carrying his heir, and by tomorrow, I’ll have your house. You were always second best, Jessi. You just never had the brains to see it.”
Before I could answer, the front glass doors swung open with a concussive thud. Four men in dark tactical windbreakers stamped with federal seals stormed into the lobby, flanked by two armed state troopers.
At the front walked Marcus Vance, holding a sheaf of brightly colored court orders.
May you like
“Luca Sterling?” the lead federal agent announced, flashing a badge that gleamed like polished ice. “We have a federal warrant for the seizure of this facility and an immediate arrest warrant for felony child endangerment, conspiracy to commit insurance fraud, and grand embezzlement.”
Luca’s face lost every drop of color, turning the sickly shade of spoiled milk.
