Chapter 4 - The Threat at the Hospital
Inside the dimly lit pediatric room, Grace cleaned Marco Moretti’s gunshot wound with trembling hands. The smell of copper and sweat hung heavy in the air. Marco’s henchmen stood guard at the doors, blocking the hospital staff from calling for help.
“You’re slow, nurse,” Marco spat, wincing as she applied antiseptic to the grazed flesh of his forearm.
“I’m trying not to cause further damage, sir,” Grace said softly, trying desperately to keep her breathing steady. She felt a sharp kick beneath her ribs—a strong, sudden motion from her child. She winced slightly, resting her hip against the stainless steel tray to support her weight.
Marco looked down at her swollen stomach and sneered. “Pregnant, huh? Who’s the lucky guy? Or did he leave you to pay the bills by yourself?”
Grace ignored the insult, bandaging the wound tightly. “You’re done. The bullet didn't hit the artery. You need a proper X-ray, but you can leave now.”
Marco grabbed her by the front of her medical scrubs, pulling her face inches from his. “You don't tell me when I leave, girl.”
Before Marco could say another word, the heavy double doors of the treatment ward were kicked off their hinges with a thunderous bang.
Sebastian Rourke stepped through the doorway.
He didn't look like a billionaire in that moment. He wore a dark, rain-soaked coat, his tie was loosened, and his eyes were dark with an unholy, terrifying rage. Behind him stood Viktor and six heavily armed men, their weapons drawn and trained directly on Marco’s crew.
Marco’s men instantly raised their guns, but they were hopelessly outnumbered.
“Marco,” Sebastian said, his voice terrifyingly calm as he stepped slowly into the room. “You walked into the wrong hospital.”
Marco gasped, tightening his grip on Grace’s collar and pulling her in front of him as a human shield. “Rourke! Stay back! I’ll blow her head off!”
Grace froze, the barrel of Marco’s gun pressed tightly against her temple. She looked across the room and met Sebastian’s eyes.
For the first time since that night in his penthouse six months ago, Sebastian was looking at her. But he wasn't looking at her with cold skepticism or arrogance. His face was pale, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles stood out like steel cables, and his eyes were filled with a raw, desperate fear that Grace had never seen in him before.
“Let her go, Marco,” Sebastian whispered. The quietness of his voice was far more terrifying than a scream. “If you put a single scratch on her skin, I will not just kill you. I will wipe your family’s name off the map of this city before sunrise.”
“She’s just a nurse to you!” Marco taunted, though his voice cracked with nervousness. “What do you care?”
“She’s mine,” Sebastian said softly, taking a slow step forward. “And everything she carries belongs to me.”
Grace’s breath caught in her throat. Everything she carries.
Marco saw the absolute killer in Sebastian’s eyes and realized he had made a fatal mistake. Panicking, Marco swung his gun toward Sebastian.
In that fraction of a second, Sebastian moved with terrifying speed. He lunged forward, grabbing Marco’s wrist and wrenching it upward. A shot discharged harmlessly into the ceiling tile, showering plaster down on them. Sebastian twisted Marco’s arm until a sickening snap echoed through the room. Marco screamed in agony, dropping the weapon.
Viktor and Rourke’s men swarmed the room, disarming Marco’s henchmen and slamming them against the floor in seconds.
Sebastian didn't care about the other men. The instant Marco was down, Sebastian turned to Grace. He caught her by the shoulders just as her knees gave out from shock.
“I’ve got you,” Sebastian breathed, lowering her gently into a chair. “I’ve got you, Grace. Look at me.”
Grace sat in the chair, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. She gripped her lower belly, her eyes wide with terror. “The baby… Sebastian, the baby…”
Sebastian dropped to his knees in front of her, uncaring of the blood and dirt on the hospital floor. He reached out with trembling hands, hovering near her stomach, desperate to touch her but terrified he had lost the right to do so.
“Is the baby hurt?” Sebastian asked, his voice shaking violently. “Tell me what to do! Someone get a doctor!”
“I am a nurse!” Grace cried out, tears finally streaming down her cheeks. “I just… I need a moment. He’s kicking… he’s kicking so hard…”
Sebastian’s eyes went wide. He looked down at Grace’s rounded belly.
Without thinking, driven by an instinct he didn't even know he possessed, Sebastian pressed his bare palm against the center of her warm, swollen stomach.
And then, it happened.
Beneath the palm of the most feared man in Chicago, a distinct, powerful kick pressed against his skin. A sharp, undeniable thrust of new life striking back against the palm of the man who had called it a lie.
Sebastian froze.
His entire body went rigid. His breath hitched in his throat. The world around him—the shouting men, the flashing emergency lights, the smell of gunpowder—vanished entirely. There was only the warmth beneath his hand, and the miraculous, unmistakable vibration of a living child.
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His eyes rose slowly to meet Grace’s. Tears were spilling down her cheeks, but her eyes held no deceit—only pure, heartbreaking truth.
“He’s alive, Sebastian,” Grace whispered softly through her tears. “He’s been alive this whole time.”
