Chapter 5 - The Bloodline Claim
"Nico... wait..." Salvatore choked out, his hands clawing uselessly at Nico’s iron grip around his collar. "I... I didn't come to fight..."
The two bodyguards behind Salvatore reached into their coats, but before they could draw their weapons, four of Nico’s men emerged from the stairwells with suppressed submachine guns pointed directly at their heads.
"Drop them," Luca’s deputy ordered cold from behind.
The two lieutenants slowly raised their hands, sliding their weapons carefully onto the linoleum floor.
Nico didn't lower his gun from Salvatore’s jaw. "Speak fast, Salvatore. You have three breaths left."
"The... the Chicago commission..." Salvatore gasped, his face turning purple. "They know about the boy... Marco’s old lawyer found the hospital registration records... Claire Sterling... registered the child without a father's name... but the timing... nine months after you sent her away..."
Nico’s eyes hardened into black granite. "And?"
"They think... they think you hid an heir to keep him out of the syndicate’s structural control," Salvatore managed to say. "If the commission thinks you have a legitimate son, the old families will demand he be pledged to the commission charter... or cleared as a threat..."
Nico let out a low, terrifying laugh. He leaned closer to Salvatore, his breath hot against the older man's ear.
"Go back to Chicago," Nico ordered, his voice echoing off the hospital walls. "Tell the commission that Milo Falcone is my sole heir. Tell them that if any man, from any family, looks toward Queens with bad intentions... I will tear down the commission brick by brick."
Nico shoved Salvatore backward with immense force. The older man collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air, clutching his bruised throat.
"Get him out of my sight," Nico commanded his men.
Two of Nico’s guards grabbed Salvatore by the arms, dragging him toward the stairwell doors like a sack of garbage.
Nico stood alone in the hallway for a long moment, straightening his charcoal jacket, adjusting his cuffs, smoothing his hair back into place. He closed his eyes, taking three deep breaths until the lethal adrenaline in his veins settled back beneath his controlled exterior.
He turned and walked back down the hall to Room 204.
He pushed the door open quietly.
Claire was standing near the bed, holding a heavy plastic water pitcher like a club, her knuckles white. When she saw Nico walk through the door uninjured, the pitcher slipped from her hands, thudding loudly onto the floor.
"Nico!" she breathed, rushing toward him, her hands hovering over his chest, checking for blood or injuries. "Are you okay?! What happened?!"
"It's handled," Nico said simply, catching her wrists in his hands, holding her steady. "They won't come back."
Before Claire could ask another question, a team of medical professionals walked rapidly into the room, led by a tall, distinguished man in a suit carrying a medical leather bag—Dr. Harrison Vance, the premier pediatric specialist from Greenwich.
"Nico," Dr. Vance said, shaking Nico’s hand firmly. "I came as fast as I could. Is this the boy?"
"Yes," Nico said, stepping back to let the expert through. "His name is Milo."
For the next forty-five minutes, Claire watched in absolute awe as Dr. Vance and his specialized team took complete control of Room 204. They ran high-speed diagnostic scans using portable equipment, adjusted Milo’s IV medication to a cutting-edge targeted antibacterial compound, and administered a specialized cooling blanket to break his stubborn fever.
By 6:30 a.m., as the first golden rays of the morning sun began to break over the Queens skyline, Dr. Vance stepped back from the bed, removing his stethoscope.
He looked at Claire and Nico with a warm, reassuring smile.
"His fever has dropped to 99.8, Mrs. Sterling," Dr. Vance announced gently. "The new antibiotic protocol has halted the bacterial spread. The infection is clearing his bloodstream. He’s going to make a full recovery."
Claire let out a loud sob, covering her face with her hands as her knees finally gave out.
Nico caught her before she hit the floor.
May you like
He lifted her easily into his powerful arms, pulling her tight against his broad chest, holding her close while she wept tears of pure, overwhelming relief against his neck.
"He's okay, Claire," Nico whispered into her hair, his own eyes shining with unshed tears as he held her tight. "Our boy is okay."
