Chapter 6: Help Without Ownership
Matteo didn’t answer the warning with another promise. He looked toward the woman in the hospital bed, then at the closed door Emma had gone through with the nurse.
“Would you like me to ask the nurse to bring in a social worker?” he said. “Or would you rather I leave?”
The woman shifted against her pillow, wincing. “A social worker. I want to hear what my options are.”
“I’ll ask.”
“And you don’t stay for the conversation unless I say.”
“I understand.”
Matteo stepped into the hall. He found the nurse at the station and repeated the request without adding his own ideas about what the woman needed. The nurse said she would contact the hospital’s support team.
A few minutes later, a woman introduced herself as a victim advocate. She asked the patient’s permission to enter, then explained her role: to listen, provide information, and help the woman consider safety and support options without requiring her to make a decision that night.
Matteo remained outside the room, where he had been asked to stay.
He could hear only the murmur of voices through the door. That was how it should be. Still, his body kept urging him to move closer, to take control of the next steps before danger could find another opening.
He knew what control looked like. He had built an empire out of it.
He also knew what it cost.
His phone buzzed. The name on the screen belonged to his trusted lieutenant. Matteo stepped farther down the hall before answering.
“You told me to stay available,” the lieutenant said. “What do you need?”
“Find out whether there’s a licensed transportation service available through the hospital or a community program. Unarmed driver. No crew. No guards.”
A pause.
“You want me to send a car?”
“I want you to find out what options exist. Don’t contact the family. Don’t ask anyone to watch them. Don’t put their names anywhere they don’t belong.”
“You’re asking me to arrange protection and then telling me not to protect them.”
“I’m telling you not to turn help into a threat.”
The lieutenant let out a quiet breath. “You know there are men who’ll call this weakness.”
“Let them.”
“If this is about the business—”
“It isn’t.”
Matteo heard himself say it with more force than he intended. He lowered his voice.
“Do not threaten the man who was arrested. Do not look for him. Do not send anyone near the hospital or the family. Nothing happens unless the police or the woman asks for help through the proper people. Understood?”
“Understood.”
The call ended. Matteo kept the phone in his hand, staring at the dark screen. He did not tell the lieutenant about Isabella. That story was not a credential he could use to make men obey. It was a promise he had made to a child and spent years misunderstanding.
When the advocate came out, Matteo moved aside to let her pass.
“She asked me to tell you she’s willing to hear about transportation,” the advocate said. “She hasn’t agreed to leave the hospital or chosen a destination. We’ll discuss options with her directly.”
“Thank you.”
The advocate paused. “She’s the one who decides what support she wants. I hope you’ll keep respecting that.”
“I will.”
He meant it. Meaning it did not make the waiting easier.
Emma appeared at the far end of the hallway, accompanied by a nurse. She slowed when she saw him. Matteo didn’t approach. He waited until she came closer on her own.
“Is my mom okay?” she asked.
“She’s talking with someone who can explain ways to get help. You can ask her yourself when she’s ready.”
“Are you going to make him disappear?”
The question landed between them with the simplicity of a stone dropped into still water.
Matteo crouched, leaving enough space that Emma didn’t have to step back.
“No,” he said.
Her brow tightened. “But you said you’d help.”
“I will. But I won’t hurt him or make him disappear. That would mean making choices for you and your mom—and it could make things more dangerous.”
“He hurt her.”
“I know.”
“He said he’d come back.”
“I heard what he said.” Matteo kept his voice steady. “The police are handling him. Your mom can talk with the advocate about ways to stay safer. You can tell the adults what you’re worried about, and they should listen. I can help only in ways your mom agrees to.”
Emma stared at him, searching his face for the kind of certainty he had offered on the phone when she was hiding.
“Then what can you do?”
“Listen. Tell the truth when the police ask me what happened. Help find information if your mom wants it. And keep my word about not sending people to you.”
“Even if you’re scared?”
The question made his throat tighten. He thought of another small hand holding his in a hospital bed, twenty-five years gone and close enough to touch.
“Yes,” he said. “Especially then.”
Emma looked down at her shoes. “I don’t want him to find us.”
“I understand.”
“You can’t promise he won’t.”
“No. I can’t promise what someone else will do. But you and your mom don’t have to figure out every next step alone.”
She considered that, then gave a small, uncertain nod. The nurse asked whether she wanted to return to her room or see her mother again. Emma chose her room. Matteo watched her go but did not follow.
His phone buzzed again. This time it was a message from the lieutenant: a hospital-approved transport option might be available, and he had not made contact with anyone. Matteo replied that the information should go to the advocate, not to him, unless the woman wanted him involved.
Then he put the phone away.
One of his men had been waiting near the elevators. When Matteo approached, the man lowered his voice.
“The crew’s asking why you’re still here.”
“They can ask.”
“They think you’re risking business over strangers.”
Matteo stopped. The man’s expression was careful, but the question beneath it was not. It asked whether Matteo still belonged to the version of himself everyone feared.
“Then tell them I said to keep their distance,” Matteo replied. “No one goes near the family. No one contacts the suspect. No one uses this as an excuse to settle anything.”
“And if the others don’t like it?”
“Then they can tell me themselves.”
The man searched his face, perhaps hoping for a reason he could take back and make understandable. Matteo gave him none. Isabella’s name was not for the crew. The grief was not a weapon. If they obeyed, it would have to be because he had ordered them to—and because he was willing to face the consequences.
The advocate returned to the hall and said the woman wanted to speak with him briefly. Matteo waited until she called him in.
“I’m not ready to decide where we’re going,” she said. Her voice was tired but firm. “The advocate gave me a few possibilities. I want time to think.”
“Take it.”
“She said the hospital can talk with me again tomorrow. I might speak with the police, too. I haven’t decided what to tell them.”
“That’s your choice.”
“And transportation?”
“They can explain the options. You don’t need to use anyone I know.”
She watched him, checking for pressure hidden inside the offer.
“All right,” she said at last. “I’ll hear what they have to say.”
Matteo nodded. It wasn’t trust. It was a door left unlatched, and he would not push it open.
His phone rang before he could step away. The call came from the precinct. He answered in the hallway.
“Mr. Ricci,” the officer said, “I’m calling with an update about the man we arrested.”
Matteo looked through the narrow window in the door. Inside, the woman rested against her pillow, her hands folded over the blanket.
“What kind of update?”
“He’s asked whether he can contact the family.”
Matteo felt the old impulse rise—the swift, terrible certainty that he could make the request disappear.
He held his ground.
“Have you asked them whether they want contact?” he said.
“Not yet. I wanted to let you know.”
“Then ask them. Don’t use me as a messenger.”
The officer went quiet for a beat.
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“All right. We’ll speak with them directly.”
Matteo lowered the phone, but the precinct had already called back. The man who had promised to find them had asked for a way back into their lives.
