Part 2: The Mafia Boss Came to End His Marriage, but the Midwife Said She Was Only Twenty-Nine Weeks Pregnant

Four days passed in fragile peace.

Leo continued to gain strength, his weight inching up by ounces, the CPAP pressure slowly being dialed down by the neonatologists. Kate was transferred to an executive recovery suite on the fourth floor, just one level above the NICU, while Lucian ran his syndicate remotely, refusing to leave the hospital grounds.

On the fifth night, a severe thunderstorm rolled over the Hudson Valley, lightning tearing through purple clouds, rain hammering the glass panels of the hospital roof.

At 2:15 AM, the power failed.

Inside Kate’s room, the lights clicked off instantly. Emergency red lights hummed to life three seconds later, bathing the room in a dull, bloody glow.

Kate bolted upright in bed, her heart seizing. “Lucian?”

Lucian was already on his feet, his hand instinctively resting on the concealed Glock beneath his jacket. “The hospital has dedicated backup generators. They should have switched over in less than a second.”

Outside in the corridor, shouting erupted.

A sharp, repeating siren began to wail overhead: *Code Red. Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Security breach on Floor Three. Code Red.*

“Leo!” Kate threw the blankets off, ignoring the sharp agony tearing at her lower abdomen as she stumbled out of bed.

“Stay here!” Lucian ordered, catching her by the shoulders. “Kate, stay behind me!”

“My son is down there!” she screamed, her eyes wide with terror. “The power is out, Lucian! His machines—his oxygen!”

Before Lucian could reply, the door to the suite burst open. Marco stumbled inside, clutching a bleeding shoulder, his handgun drawn.

“Boss!” Marco gasped, coughing blood onto the linoleum. “It’s not Vincent. It’s the Morettis. They cut the main power grid and breached the south fire exit. They aren't trying to assassinate you—they’re after the nursery!”

Lucian’s blood turned to pure liquid fire. The Morettis knew that an heir secured the Avery dynasty. If they snatched the child, they could force Lucian to surrender his entire shipping empire—or slaughter the boy to trigger a civil war.

“Arm Miriam,” Lucian commanded Marco, his voice colder than the grave. “Barricade this room. If anyone without my clearance tries to enter, shoot to kill.”

“Lucian, please!” Kate grabbed his lapels, sobbing hysterically. “Bring him back! Bring our baby back!”

“He lives,” Lucian promised, kissing her lips hard and fast with desperate, savage certainty. “I will bring him back to you, Kate. I swear it.”

He drew his weapon, racked the slide, and sprinted into the darkened stairwell, bounding down the stairs three at a time toward Floor Three.

The smell of cordite and burnt insulation hung thick in the air. Two hospital security guards lay unconscious near the entrance to the NICU, zip-tied and bleeding.

Lucian kicked through the magnetic fire doors, stepping into the dim, red-lit corridor of the neonatal ward. The alarms screeched like dying animals.