Chapter 2 - The Aftermath of the Impossible
Matteo gasped.
It wasn't a cry. It was a ragged, hitching inhalation that sounded like a traveler finding water in a desert. The purple lace across his abdomen began to fade into a healthy, fragile pink. The heart monitor shifted—a steady, rhythmic thump-thump that was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.
Alessandro didn't put his gun away. He stood by the incubator, watching his nephew with a look that was more terrifying than his rage—it was a look of possessive, dangerous devotion.
"He’s stabilizing," I whispered, stepping back, my knees finally giving way.
Alessandro turned to look at me. Up close, the lines on his face were carved by years of violence and absolute power. "Who are you?"
"Lauren Hayes," I said, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. "Night shift. I was just... cleaning the linens."
"You saved him," he said, his voice quiet. He looked at the fifteen specialists, who were now standing like children caught in a lie. "These 'experts' were going to kill him. They didn't see it. You did."
"It was a lucky guess," I said, trying to fade into the background.
"There is no luck in my world," Alessandro said. He looked at his head of security, a man with a neck thicker than my entire torso. "Make sure this hospital forgets she was ever here. And make sure she gets paid for the... consultation."
"I don't want your money," I said, a flash of pride overriding my fear. "I want you to make sure these doctors know why they failed. They stopped looking at the patient and started looking at the protocol."
Alessandro stared at me for a long time. Then, he holstered his weapon. "You have a sharp tongue, Lauren Hayes. That’s a dangerous trait in Chicago. But tonight, it’s the only reason my family is whole."
He turned to the door, and as he walked out, the guards followed. The surgical team descended on me like vultures, trying to claim the discovery as their own, trying to hide the fact that they had been inches away from killing a crime boss's heir.
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I walked out of Suite 404, my scrubs soaked in cold sweat. I had saved a life, saved my job, and arguably saved the city from a massacre. But as I reached the elevator, I realized something.
My life as a "night nurse" was over.
