Chapter 2
The bright, saturated colors of the maternity suite felt like a cruel, twisted nightmare. Sofia’s fair, rosy skin turned ashen with sheer terror as she watched Bianca step closer to Victor, preparing to take the swaddled newborn into her own arms. The baby’s cries grew louder, a frantic, helpless sound that tore at Sofia’s heart.
"Julian, I am begging you," Sofia sobbed, her outstretched hand shaking violently as she strained against her own physical limits. "Do not let them take my baby. He is your blood! He is your child! You cannot do this!"
"He is Mercer blood," Julian corrected her, his American accent perfectly flat and devoid of empathy. "And my sister requires a child to secure the terms of her inheritance trust. You owe this to my family, Sofia. We have tolerated your father’s dangerous reputation for long enough. This is simply a transaction."
"Are you insane?" Sofia shrieked, her voice tearing through her raw throat. "You cannot just steal a human being! I will call the police! I will tell my father!"
"You will do no such thing," Bianca sneered, adjusting the heavy diamond bracelet on her wrist as she reached for the infant. "You will go home, and you will tell everyone that the smallest one did not survive the night. It is a tragedy, but it happens all the time."
Unbeknownst to the arrogant Mercer family, Nurse Claire had been standing just outside the partially open door of the visitor lounge. The white American female nurse, dressed in crisp medical scrubs, latex gloves, and comfortable medical shoes, had heard the baby’s cries. When she peeked through the gap and witnessed Julian moving the call button beyond the mother's reach, her fair skin paled. She knew exactly who Sofia’s father was. Without making a single sound, Nurse Claire sprinted down the pristine hospital corridor to alert the security detail waiting in the private lobby.
Inside the room, Sofia continued to thrash against her hospital blankets, ignoring the agonizing pain in her recovering body. "Someone help me! Please! Do not let them leave this room!"
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the maternity suite burst open with explosive, terrifying force.
The brilliant cinematic lighting of the room caught the towering figure standing in the threshold. Lorenzo Ravelli had arrived. At fifty-five years old, Lorenzo was breathtakingly handsome, possessing the rugged, movie-star looks of a classic leading man, combined with the deeply masculine, undeniably intimidating aura of a veteran Mafia Boss. His thick, neatly styled hair and short, well-groomed full beard framed an angular face with a sharply defined jawline. He wore a dark, meticulously tailored suit, with his dress shirt unbuttoned at the chest to reveal a glimpse of his fair, rosy skin. A heavy gold family signet ring rested on his finger, and his polished leather shoes gleamed in the light.
Flanked by two towering bodyguards in professional dark suits, Lorenzo stepped into the room.
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"Dad..." Sofia whispered, her voice shaking with overwhelming relief and residual terror.
Lorenzo’s cold, sharp eyes instantly assessed the room, locking onto the crying child in Victor's arms. The temperature in the bright suite seemed to drop to absolute zero.
