Chapter 6
The silence in the brightly lit maternity suite was broken only by the soft, rhythmic hum of the hospital's ventilation system and the faint, pathetic groaning of Victor from the pile of collapsed luggage stands. The vivid colors of the room—the crisp white linens, the scattered blue water bottles, the deep charcoal of Lorenzo’s suit—seemed to sharpen into extreme, cinematic focus.
Lorenzo took a slow, deep breath. He retrieved a pristine white linen handkerchief from his pocket and methodically wiped his knuckles, though there was no visible blood on his fair, rosy skin. He folded the handkerchief and placed it back into his pocket, his movements deliberate and unhurried.
He slowly looked from Victor, who was clutching his bruised face, to Julian, who was just beginning to stir amidst the wreckage of the refreshment cart. Finally, his dark, intimidating eyes settled on the bleeding son-in-law.
"Pick him up," Lorenzo commanded his bodyguards. His volume was incredibly low, yet it carried an undeniable, absolute authority.
The two heavily built men in dark suits stepped forward. They grabbed Julian by the arms, dragging him out of the scattered paper cups and crushed water bottles, and threw him forcefully into a heavy visitor armchair. Julian gasped, blood dripping from his split lip onto his expensive tailored suit. He looked up at Lorenzo, his previous arrogance entirely erased, replaced by genuine, suffocating fear.
Lorenzo walked over to the chair, standing tall and imposing over the younger man. He placed his hands in his pockets, his broad shoulders blocking out the bright light from the window, casting a dark shadow over Julian.
"You attempted... to steal... my blood," Lorenzo said, speaking slowly, drawing out the terrifying pauses between his words. Every sentence sounded measured, cold, and dripping with dangerous intent. "You thought... because she was exhausted... because she was alone... you could simply... take what you wanted."
"Lorenzo, please," Julian choked out, spitting blood onto his chin. "We had an agreement. My family provided the political cover for your operations! We are partners!"
"Partners... negotiate," Lorenzo murmured softly, leaning down slightly so his sharply defined jawline was mere inches from Julian’s face. "Thieves... take. And I... execute... thieves."
Julian’s eyes darted frantically around the room, landing on his sister, Bianca, who was still frozen against the wall, trembling uncontrollably.
Lorenzo noticed the glance. He slowly straightened his posture, his eyes narrowing as a cold realization settled over his handsome features. He looked from Julian, to the cowering Victor, and finally to Bianca.
"One baby," Lorenzo stated, his voice dead calm, stripping the room of any remaining oxygen. "You wanted... one baby. Not all three."
He paused, letting the weight of the realization hang in the crisp, bright air.
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"Now," Lorenzo continued, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Tell me... who was waiting downstairs... for him."
Julian instinctively looked toward Bianca. The immediate, terrifying silence confirmed Lorenzo's darkest suspicion. They were not stealing the child for the sister to raise; they were delivering it to someone else.
