Rose Fisher is recovering in a safe house in Queens.
Not a hospital which was too exposed, it will have too many ways for Diane to finish what she started.
Luca's people secured the location, it was an anonymous brownstone with reinforced doors and armed guards rotating every six hours.
I was sitting beside Rose's bed. She's bandaged, pale, but alive. The bullet went through her shoulder, it's a clean wound with minimal damage.
"You saved my life," I tell her. "At the gallery. You were shooting at Diane, not me."
"Of course I was shooting at Diane." Rose's French accent makes even pain sound elegant. "I told you, we're not your enemies. We're Charles's victims, just like yourselves."
Tony's standing by the window. His arms crossed, still suspicious.
"So you say but we only have your word."
"Then don't trust my word." Rose shifts, winces. "Trust the evidence, Ted can show you."
