Chapter 2: The Milk That Saved Him
Leo kept the milk down.
For the first hour, everyone waited for him to vomit.
He did not.
Dr. Halloran stood beside the crib, checking the monitor every few minutes as though the numbers might disappear if he looked away too long. Lorenzo remained near the window, arms folded, watching Hunter hold his son.
The baby had fallen asleep against her chest.
Not the exhausted unconsciousness that had frightened the doctors.
Real sleep.
His fingers remained curled in the fabric of Hunter’s uniform.
“He should be placed back in the crib,” Dr. Halloran said.
Hunter looked at Leo’s peaceful face.
“Why?”
“To reduce dependency.”
“He is two months old.”
“He is also medically fragile.”
Hunter’s eyes hardened.
“He has spent two months being handled like a medical problem. Maybe he needs to be held like a baby.”
Dr. Halloran drew himself upright.
“I am one of the most respected neonatal specialists in the country.”
“And he was still dying.”
Lorenzo turned his head slightly.
The doctor fell silent.
“Let her hold him,” Lorenzo said.
Hunter glanced toward him.
He had not moved closer.
He seemed unable to.
The distance between Lorenzo and the crib was only ten feet, but grief had made it a continent.
Hunter understood.
She had not opened the drawer containing Lily’s clothing since returning from the hospital.
Some distances were measured in pain, not space.
At dawn, the baby woke and fed again.
By noon, his color had improved.
By evening, the fragile crease between his brows had softened.
The medical team called it remarkable.
Lorenzo called it temporary.
He refused to allow hope into the room.
Hope had already betrayed him once.
Hunter was moved into a bedroom across from the nursery. New clothes were brought to her. A nutritionist arrived. A physician examined her and confirmed that she was physically able to continue nursing.
Lorenzo offered her fifty thousand dollars for one month.
Hunter refused.
“One hundred thousand,” he said.
“No.”
They stood in his study beneath a portrait of a severe-looking Rossi ancestor.
“What do you want?” Lorenzo asked.
“I want your people to stay away from Tommy Vance.”
Lorenzo’s expression did not change.
“Your former boyfriend.”
Hunter’s stomach tightened.
“You investigated me.”
“I investigate everyone who enters my home.”
“Then you know what he did.”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo had read the hospital report. He had seen photographs of bruises along Hunter’s spine and shoulders. He had seen the medical notation confirming the loss of her baby.
He had also seen that Tommy had never been arrested.
Hunter had refused to identify him.
“You protected him,” Lorenzo said.
“I was afraid of him.”
“Are you still?”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo leaned back against his desk.
“Why ask me to stay away from him?”
“Because men like you do not solve problems. You erase them.”
“He killed your daughter.”
The words struck her like a blow.
Hunter’s eyes filled.
“He caused her death,” she whispered.
“That is a gentle way to describe murder.”
“I don’t want his blood on me.”
“It would be on him.”
“And on you.”
Lorenzo watched her carefully.
Hunter wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand.
“I want him arrested. I want him to stand in court and hear what he did. I want him to live with Lily’s name.”
“You believe the system will punish him?”
“I have to.”
Lorenzo almost laughed, but there was no humor in his face.
“The system is a door rich men open and poor women bleed against.”
“Then help me open it.”
The request surprised him.
Hunter stepped closer to the desk.
“You have evidence people cannot get. You have lawyers. Investigators. Connections. Use them without killing anyone.”
Lorenzo’s mouth tightened.
“You are asking a wolf to behave like a judge.”
“I’m asking Leo’s father to decide what kind of world his son will grow up in.”
The name changed the air.
Lorenzo glanced toward the ceiling, toward the nursery above them.
“You will feed Leo,” he said. “And I will make sure Vance reaches a courtroom alive.”
Hunter held his gaze.
“No threats against his family. No bodies. No disappearing witnesses.”
“You negotiate boldly for a maid.”
“I am not negotiating as your maid.”
“What are you, then?”
Hunter thought of Leo’s mouth searching for life.
“Someone your son trusts.”
Lorenzo looked away first.
That evening, he entered the nursery while Hunter sat in the chair beside the window.
Leo was awake in her arms.
His dark eyes moved toward his father’s voice.
Lorenzo stopped.
“He knows you,” Hunter said.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“He has barely seen me.”
“He heard you before he was born.”
Lorenzo’s face closed.
“Sophia used to say that.”
Hunter shifted Leo gently.
“Come closer.”
Lorenzo did not move.
“He’s not going to break because you touch him.”
“You cannot know that.”
“No,” Hunter said. “But I know he may grow up believing his father was afraid to hold him.”
Lorenzo’s eyes flashed.
Hunter immediately regretted the cruelty of the words.
Then Lorenzo walked forward.
Slowly.
He stood beside her.
Hunter placed Leo into his arms.
Lorenzo held the baby stiffly, one hand beneath his head, the other supporting his body. His breathing changed.
Leo blinked up at him.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Leo wrapped his tiny fingers around Lorenzo’s index finger.
Lorenzo’s face broke.
Not dramatically.
There was only a small tremor in his jaw, then a single tear that slipped down the scar beside his cheek.
“I should have saved her,” he whispered.
Hunter knew he did not mean the baby.
“You tried.”
“I was five feet away.”
“You were inside an explosion.”
“I promised her she was safe.”
Leo tightened his grip.
Hunter spoke softly.
“Maybe you can’t keep that promise to Sophia anymore.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“But you can keep it for him.”
Outside the nursery, one of Lorenzo’s guards waited until the door closed.
Then he walked into an empty guest room and made a call.
“The child is improving,” he said.
A man on the other end cursed.
“And the maid?”
May you like
“Rossi trusts her.”
“Then she becomes part of the plan.”
