She Collapsed at the Mafia Boss’s Wedding, and the Baby Bump Under Her Coat Stopped the Vows Cold

The tires of the armored Mercedes shrieked as Leo pulled up to the emergency bay of Mercy Hospital.

Arthur threw the door open before the vehicle had fully stopped, carrying Chloe out into the rain. His tuxedo was ruined, stained with her blood and rainwater, but he didn't care.

“Trauma bay! Clear the hall!” Leo screamed, his weapon visible beneath his coat as he cleared a path through the crowded waiting room.

Medical staff rushed forward with a gurney. Arthur laid Chloe down gently, his fingers refusing to untangle from hers until a nurse forcefully pushed him back.

“Sir, you need to step outside!” a doctor yelled, snapping on latex gloves as they wheeled Chloe through the double doors. “What happened?”

“She collapsed!” Arthur shouted back, his voice echoing through the sterile white hallway. “She’s seven months pregnant! Fix her!”

“Sir, stand back!”

The doors swung shut, cutting him off.

Arthur slammed his fist into the wall, the heavy drywall cracking beneath his knuckles. Pain radiated up his arm, but he welcomed it. It was the only thing keeping him from tearing the hospital apart.

Leo stepped up beside him, his phone pressed to his ear. “Arthur, we have a massive situation. Malcolm Croft has locked down the cathedral. He’s claiming you breached the alliance contract by abandoning the altar. His men are mobilizing across the North Side.”

Arthur turned slowly, his dark eyes completely devoid of human emotion. “Where is Vivien?”

“She went with her father,” Leo replied. “Arthur... Chloe said the wine was poisoned. I had one of our chemists run a quick swab of the ceremonial cup before we evacuated. She was right. It was laced with a concentrated liquid cyanide compound. If you had taken that sip after the vows...”

“I would be dead,” Arthur finished softly. “And Vivien would have inherited the joint territory under the peace treaty terms.”

Leo noddedgrimly. “The Crofts didn't want an alliance, Arthur. They wanted your territory without a war. They used the wedding to trap you.”

Before Arthur could respond, the elevator doors at the end of the hall chimed. Four men in dark raincoats stepped out, led by Malcolm Croft’s right-hand enforcer, a brutal killer named Viktor.

“Arthur Romano,” Viktor said, reaching into his coat. “Don Croft sent us to ensure the 'distraction' doesn't cause any more trouble for the family.”

Arthur didn't hesitate. He pulled his silenced pistol from his shoulder holster and fired three shots before Viktor could clear his leather. Two rounds struck Viktor in the chest; the third caught him between the eyes.

The remaining three Croft enforcers drew their weapons, but Leo and four Romano bodyguards opened fire simultaneously. The hospital corridor erupted into a deafening storm of gunfire, glass shattering and smoke filling the air.

Within ten seconds, all four Croft men were lying dead on the linoleum floor.

Nurses screamed behind locked doors. The fire alarm began to wail overhead, red emergency lights flashing rhythmically against the blood-stained walls.

Arthur reloaded his pistol, his expression utterly detached. He walked over to Viktor’s body, retrieved a satellite phone from the dead man’s pocket, and tossed it to Leo.

“Call the family,” Arthur commanded, stepping over the corpses as he walked back toward the trauma room doors. “Tell every capo in Chicago that the alliance with the Crofts is officially broken. We are at war.”