Chapter 6 - The Nurse’s Shield
“Miss Lane! What are you doing?!” Gino hissed, drawing his gun as he sprinted down the steps behind her.
The room below went dead silent as the sound of soft footsteps echoed across the marble floor.
Dominic turned around, his eyes widening in pure shock as he saw Sophie walking directly into the middle of the confrontation, wearing her cheap server’s uniform, holding his sleeping son.
“What are you doing down here?” Dominic growled under his breath, stepping in front of her to shield her from the Commission bosses. “I told you to go upstairs.”
Sophie didn't look at Dominic. She walked straight past his shoulder, stepping right into the center of the ring of mob bosses.
Vincent Moretti sneered, looking her up and down. “What is this? Did you hire a cheap nanny from the diner to hide your shame, brother?”
Sophie stopped three feet from Vincent. She pulled a pen and a tiny medical pad from her apron pocket—the notebook she used to take dinner orders twenty minutes ago.
“My name is Sophie Lane,” she said, her voice cutting through the heavy room with absolute clarity. “I am a board-certified pediatric cardiac nurse, license number 44092.”
Don Carmine frowned, leaning on his cane. “A nurse?”
“Mr. Nicholas Moretti is currently under my direct clinical observation,” Sophie stated, using the formal tone she had used during hospital board audits. “He is recovering from a mild, temporary neonatal digestive distress caused by improper feeding protocols implemented by incompetent staff.”
She turned her gaze directly onto the Commission doctor standing behind Vincent—a nervous-looking man holding a leather medical bag.
“Are you Dr. Sterling?” Sophie asked sharp as a whip.
The doctor blinked, taken aback. “Yes... I am Dr. Thomas Sterling—”
“Dr. Sterling, did you prescribe the high-lactose artificial formula currently sitting in the kitchen prep room?” Sophie demanded.
Sterling shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Well... the standard protocol for infant weight gain—”
“The standard protocol for a newborn with a maternal history of cardiac sensitivity is a hydrolyzed, lactose-free whey isolation!” Sophie cut him off, her eyes blazing with professional authority. “By prescribing a heavy lactose formula to a three-day-old infant with high diaphragm sensitivity, you induced an acute gastric inflation that spiked his resting pulse to two hundred! That is not a failure of the child’s blood, Dr. Sterling. That is medical malpractice!”
The entire room stared at her.
Vincent’s jaw dropped. Don Carmine looked at Dr. Sterling, his grey eyebrows knitting together in deep suspicion. “Is this true, Thomas?”
Sterling turned bright red, sweating profusely. “I... I was working off the chart provided by the private clinic—”
“You were working off a chart provided by someone who wanted this baby to scream!” Sophie declared, turning her head to glare directly at Vincent Moretti.
Dominic’s eyes snapped toward his brother like a predator fixing on prey.
Sophie stepped right up to Don Carmine, pulling back the edge of Nico’s silk blanket just enough for the old Don to see the baby’s peaceful, sleeping face. Nico’s skin was healthy, his breathing deep, even, and calm.
“Look at him, Don Carmine,” Sophie said softly. “Does this child look weak to you?”
The old crime boss leaned forward, looking down into the blanket. He touched the baby’s tiny, soft hand with his liver-spotted finger. Nico’s tiny hand instantly curled around the old man’s finger in a firm, surprisingly strong grip.
Don Carmine let out a low, rough laugh. “He’s got a grip like an iron vise. Just like his grandfather.”
Carmine straightened up, turning his cold gaze onto Vincent Moretti.
“The boy is healthy,” Carmine announced, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. “The Commission recognizes Nicholas Moretti as the legitimate heir to the Moretti estate. The thirty-day challenge is dismissed.”
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Vincent’s face went white with fury. “Carmine, this is insane! You’re taking the word of a waitress?!”
“I am taking the word of a nurse who just proved your doctor is an idiot, Vincent,” Carmine snapped, tapping his cane against the floor. “We are leaving.”
