The Milan center did not look like a hospital.
That was the first thing Roman Ashford noticed as the car pulled through the entrance — a private facility set back from the road behind iron gates and a long approach lined with stone and cypress trees. The building itself was low and wide, clad in pale stone that caught the afternoon light cleanly. No signage visible from the road. No crowds. No the particular chaos that clung to public medical institutions regardless of their quality.
The kind of place that cost enough to purchase that quality of stillness.
Roman had chosen it deliberately.
The car stopped at the main entrance. The transport team had come in a separate medical vehicle directly from the airfield — Jayden was already inside by the time Roman's car arrived, which was how Roman had arranged it. He had wanted Jayden admitted and assessed before he walked in. He had wanted the process already in motion, not waiting on his arrival.
He got out.
