Chapter 5 - The Breath of Life
The traumatic surgeon stepped out of the emergency operating room forty minutes later, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Arthur immediately blocked his path. “Is she alive?”
The doctor looked at Arthur’s blood-soaked tuxedo, then at the four dead bodies being dragged down the hall by Romano soldiers. He swallowed hard before speaking.
“She is stable, Mr. Romano,” the doctor said quickly. “The bleeding was caused by severe physical exhaustion and acute stress, which triggered early placental abruption. We managed to stop the hemorrhage and stabilize her blood pressure.”
Arthur felt a heavy, crushing weight lift from his chest. “And the baby?”
“The child is alive,” the doctor replied, opening the door slightly. “Heartbeat is strong, but the stress was severe. She needs absolute rest, high-level monitoring, and zero emotional shock. If her blood pressure spikes again, we will have to perform an emergency C-section, and at seven months, there are significant risks.”
Arthur pushed past the doctor and stepped into the quiet room.
Chloe lay on the narrow bed, an IV line running into her arm and a heart monitor softly beating beside her. Her face was pale, her dark hair spread across the white pillow, but her breathing was deep and rhythmic.
Arthur walked over to the bed, dropping heavily into the chair beside her. He reached out with a trembling hand, gently cupping her pale cheek with his knuckles.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, Chloe.”
Her eyelids fluttered open slowly. She looked at him through a haze of sedatives, her hazel eyes focusing on his face, taking in his ruined tuxedo and the blood on his hands.
“Arthur...” she rasped.
“Don’t move,” he commanded softly, placing his large palm over her hand. “You’re safe. The doctor stopped the bleeding. Our child is safe.”
Chloe’s eyes shifted down to her stomach, her hand tightening around his fingers. “You... you said 'our child.'”
“I know,” Arthur murmured, leaning down to press his forehead against her knuckles. “I know everything now. I know what you risked to come to that church. I know you saved my life today.”
Chloe let out a dry, breathy laugh that turned into a soft sob. “I didn't do it for you, Arthur. I did it because... because I couldn't let my baby grow up knowing his father was murdered at an altar.”
Arthur looked up, his dark eyes burning with fierce, absolute devotion. “His father is never leaving again. Do you hear me? I spent seven weeks believing I was protecting you by staying away. I was a fool, Chloe. I let my duty blind me to what actually mattered.”
“The Crofts...” she whispered, her brow furrowing. “They came to the diner again last night. Vivien... she came herself. She told me if I ever returned to Chicago, she would have my brother killed. She showed me the wedding invitation... she bragged about the wine...”
Arthur’s hand tightened around hers, his jaw setting into a line of pure steel. “Vivien Croft will never threaten you or Jamie again. I promise you that on my life.”
The heart monitor chimed steadily in the background as Chloe closed her eyes, exhausted by the drug-induced haze, but her fingers remained firmly tangled in Arthur’s.
Arthur sat by her side for two hours without moving, watching her breathe, feeling the gentle kick of his unborn child against her stomach whenever he rested his hand over her dress.
At four in the morning, Leo knocked softly on the doorframe.
“Arthur,” Leo whispered. “Our scouts located Malcolm Croft’s safe house in Evanston. He’s preparing to flee the state under armed escort.”
Arthur slowly withdrew his hand from Chloe’s, leaning over to kiss her forehead gently. He stood up, adjusted his coat, and walked out into the corridor.
“Is the strike team ready?” Arthur asked.
May you like
“Thirty men,” Leo replied. “Fully equipped.”
“Good,” Arthur said, taking a fresh, black tactical jacket from one of his men and sliding his arms into the sleeves. “Let’s go finish this wedding.”
