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At 11:47 a.m., every camera on the maternity floor went dark.

Roman saw it happen from the hospital security office.

Twelve screens blinked simultaneously.

Then returned showing prerecorded footage from ten minutes earlier.

He was running before the technician understood what had happened.

Upstairs, Dominic was sitting beside Mara when his phone buzzed.

One message from Roman.

LOCK THE DOOR.

Dominic stood instantly.

“What?”

Mara saw his face.

“Something’s happening.”

He locked the room.

Then he crossed to the window.

Six floors down, a black delivery van had stopped beside the hospital service entrance.

No company logo.

Two men stepped out wearing maintenance uniforms.

Dominic called Roman.

“Where are you?”

“NICU.”

Dominic’s blood froze.

“The baby.”

“Safe so far.”

“So far?”

“Two men just tried the west entrance.”

Mara gripped the bedrail.

Dominic opened the bedside cabinet.

He had surrendered his firearm at the hospital entrance because Mara had made him promise no weapons near their child.

But Roman had put something else inside the drawer.

A small emergency radio.

Dominic pressed the button.

“Lock the neonatal floor.”

Roman answered.

“Already happening.”

An alarm sounded.

Not fire.

Security.

Mara tried to get out of bed.

Dominic stopped her.

“No.”

“My son is upstairs.”

“And you have twenty stitches.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

She pushed his hand away.

“Do not start deciding things for me again.”

The sentence stopped him.

Different moment.

Same wound.

Dominic nodded once.

“Fine.”

He helped her into the wheelchair.

They reached the hallway as nurses began moving visitors into rooms.

Roman appeared around the corner.

“Back inside.”

“What happened?”

“Someone accessed the service elevators using a physician credential.”

“Whose?”

“Dr. Patel. He’s been in surgery two hours.”

Stolen badge.

Mara looked toward the NICU.

“Where is my baby?”

“Locked unit. Two armed guards.”

“Two?”

Roman glanced at Dominic.

“Four now.”

The elevator bell sounded.

Everyone turned.

Roman reached beneath his jacket.

The doors opened.

Celeste stood inside.

Alone.

Dominic stared.

She wore hospital scrubs over her dress.

“Don’t shoot.”

Roman raised the gun anyway.

“How did you get out of the conference room?”

“I wasn’t locked in.”

“You were guarded.”

“I told your man I was sick.”

Roman swore quietly.

Celeste stepped out.

“I know what they’re doing.”

Dominic’s face hardened.

“How convenient.”

“They’re not coming through the NICU.”

Roman frowned.

“What?”

Celeste looked at Mara.

“They want her.”

Mara stiffened.

“Why?”

“Because the baby is leverage.”

Dominic stepped closer.

“Explain.”

Celeste’s eyes darted toward the security camera.

“Victor told me months ago that if Mara was ever found, the child mattered less than she did.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It does if they need Dominic to sign.”

“Sign what?”

“A transfer.”

Dominic’s stomach tightened.

“What transfer?”

“Control of the Bellini port trusts.”

He stared.

“I don’t control those.”

“You do.”

Celeste laughed bitterly.

“You just don’t know it.”

Mara whispered, “Your mother.”

Celeste nodded.

“When Sofia Bellini died, the controlling shares moved into a dormant family trust. They pass to the first legitimate grandchild after Dominic.”

Everyone looked toward the NICU.

Dominic’s son.

Celeste continued.

“Until the child turns twenty-five, one parent controls the trust.”

Mara understood first.

“Dominic.”

“No,” Celeste said.

“The mother.”

Silence.

Dominic turned toward Mara.

Celeste pointed toward the service corridor.

“They need Mara alive.”

“Then why crash her car?”

“They weren’t supposed to kill her.”

Dominic’s eyes narrowed.

“The text asked whether she and the child were dead.”

“Because the driver panicked after the crash. He thought he’d ruined everything.”

“How do you know?”

Celeste hesitated.

Roman stepped forward.

“Because she’s still talking to them.”

Celeste reached into her scrub pocket slowly.

She placed a burner phone on the nurses’ station.

“I was.”

Dominic stared at it.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted out.”

Mara laughed weakly.

“You wanted out after helping them hunt me for eight months?”

Celeste looked ashamed.

“Yes.”

Mara’s expression held no pity.

Celeste continued.

“Victor promised me protection. He said after Dominic married me, no one could touch me.”

Dominic’s face turned hard.

“I was never going to marry you.”

“I know that now.”

The building alarm suddenly stopped.

The silence was worse.

Roman touched his earpiece.

“What?”

He listened.

Then cursed.

“The service elevators are moving again.”

“Which floor?”

“Six.”

Their floor.

Dominic pushed Mara’s wheelchair toward her room.

Celeste grabbed his sleeve.

“Not there.”

He turned.

“They know her room.”

“Then where?”

“Radiology stairwell. No electronic access.”

Roman nodded.

“Move.”

They had covered twenty feet when a maintenance door opened behind them.

A man in blue scrubs stepped out.

Dominic saw the suppressed handgun first.

“DOWN!”

He threw himself over Mara.

The shot struck the wall.

Roman fired once.

The attacker fell.

People screamed.

A second man appeared from the opposite hall.

Celeste froze directly in his path.

He raised his gun.

For one strange second Dominic saw Celeste understand exactly what her choices had bought her.

The attacker aimed at Mara.

Celeste stepped in front of the wheelchair.

The bullet hit her shoulder.

She spun into the wall.

Roman fired twice.

The man collapsed.

Dominic stared at Celeste.

Blood spread across her scrubs.

She slid to the floor.

Mara looked shocked.

“Why?”

Celeste laughed weakly.

“Don’t make me noble.”

Dominic knelt beside her.

“Who sent them?”

She gripped his wrist.

“Sarto.”

“Who is Sarto?”

Her breathing came fast.

“I saw him once.”

“Name.”

She shook her head.

“Celeste.”

“He’ll kill my brother.”

Dominic froze.

“You have a brother?”

“He’s seventeen.”

Her eyes filled.

“They’ve had him for six months.”

Dominic’s anger shifted.

Not vanished.

Shifted.

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Name Sarto.”

She closed her eyes.

“Gabriel Marchesi.”

Roman went pale.

Dominic noticed.

“You know him.”

Roman stared.

“Everyone knows him.”

Dominic did too.

Gabriel Marchesi was not a gangster.

Not publicly.

He was chairman of Marchesi Maritime.

Donor to hospitals.

Friend to senators.

A man photographed beside presidents, governors and cardinals.

Dominic understood why Victor had been afraid.

Celeste tightened her grip.

“He’ll come himself now.”

“Why?”

“Because Mara survived.”

Dominic looked toward the bloodstained floor.

Celeste whispered one more sentence.

“And because your father didn’t die of a heart attack.”

Dominic went perfectly still.

“What?”

She looked at him.

“Marchesi killed him.”