Her husband knew their unborn son was in distress—yet when his lieutenant begged him to come home, Lucian looked at his mistress and whispered, “Not yet.”

The private jet finally touched down at O’Hare International Airport at two in the afternoon, fourteen hours after Serena’s water had broken.

The cabin doors hadn't even finished descending before Lucian leaped down the steps into the tarmac slush, his cashmere coat billowing in the freezing wind.

Three black Cadillac Escalades were idling on the runway, engines purring.

Vance met him at the base of the stairs. His face was entirely devoid of expression.

"Status!" Lucian demanded, grabbing Vance by the lapel of his coat. "Where are they? Is my son alive? Is Serena awake?"

Vance calmly peeled Lucian’s fingers from his coat. The lieutenant’s eyes were cold, stripped of all loyalty.

"Both survived, sir," Vance said evenly. "No thanks to you."

Lucian exhaled a massive, shuddering breath, stumbling backward against the chassis of the SUV. He covered his face with his hands. "Thank God... God..."

"I wouldn't thank Him yet, Mr. Vance," Vance said, opening the rear door of the lead vehicle. "You should see what’s waiting for you at the hospital."

During the twenty-minute drive with sirens blaring, Lucian’s phone buzzed continuously.

It was Bianca. Text after text:

*Lucian, why did you leave without saying goodbye?*

*I'm feeling so sick again, the doctor says I shouldn't be alone.*

*When are you coming back to Italy?*

Lucian stared at the screen. For the first time in six months, the illusion shattered. The delicate, fragile damsel he had indulged, the woman who had made him feel like a conquering king away from the quiet responsibilities of his marriage, looked suddenly like a grotesque parasite.

He didn't reply. He blocked her number, deleted the thread, and threw the phone onto the leather seat beside him.

When the convoy screeched to a halt outside Mercy General’s main entrance, Lucian burst through the revolving doors like a hurricane, ignoring the security guards and hospital staff who recognized the billionaire titan of Vance Holdings.

He took the elevators straight to the fourth-floor maternity wing.

He turned the corner toward Room 412, expecting to burst inside, fall to his knees, beg for forgiveness, and hold his newborn son in his arms.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

Standing in the center of the corridor, flanking the door of Room 412, were four armed private security officers wearing the insignia of the Chen Legal Defense Group.