Chapter 11 - The Shadow of the Benefactor
The chill of the encrypted message lingered on the screen long after Sebastian slipped the phone back into his tailored charcoal jacket. Outside the private recovery suite of St. Jude’s Hospital, the rhythmic beeping of Baby Miller’s vitals monitor provided a fragile illusion of peace.
Claire watched Sebastian’s face closely. She had spent enough time around him over the past forty-eight hours to recognize the subtle hardening of his jaw, the almost imperceptible narrowing of his obsidian eyes. The tender, vulnerable father who had just wept into his older son’s neck had retreated behind the impenetrable mask of a man who commanded shadows.
"Sebastian?" Claire whispered, her arms still securely cradling the newborn. "What was that?"
Sebastian didn't answer immediately. He looked at Leo, who was staring down at his father's silver-and-blue hospital bracelet with a mixture of disbelief and quiet wonder. Fourteen years of wandering, of feeling unanchored in foster care and state-run homes, had ended in a single breath. Sebastian stepped forward, resting a heavy, warm hand on the boy’s shoulder.
"Leo," Sebastian said, his voice low, steady, and commanding yet threaded with immense warmth. "My men are downstairs in the courtyard. Dante is waiting with the armored convoy. You’re going home. To our home."
Leo looked up, hesitant. "What about you? And the baby?"
"We’re coming with you," Sebastian replied firmly. He looked back at Claire, his gaze softening by a fraction. "Claire, pack whatever medical gear the little one needs for the next forty-eight hours. My personal physician has already outfitted the pediatric bay at Haven Crest. You’re coming with us."
"Sebastian, I have rounds, and St. Jude's—"
"St. Jude’s is locked down by my security," Sebastian said, cutting through her protest without raising his voice. "And whoever sent that message knows you kept this child alive. You are not safe here, Claire. Neither of my sons is safe here until I tear out the roots of whoever sent that."
Claire swallowed hard. The mention of danger chilled her blood, but looking down at Baby Miller—whose tiny fingers were now curled tightly into the fabric of her scrub top—she knew Sebastian was right. If someone had the audacity to taunt the head of the Moretti family inside the very walls he had just reclaimed, no ordinary hospital security could stop them.
Ten minutes later, guided by a dozen grim-faced men in dark suits, Claire carried the mobile incubator through a restricted basement tunnel beneath St. Jude’s. Leo walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Sebastian, the teenager matching his father’s long, deliberate strides.
As they climbed into the reinforced interior of a black luxury SUV, Sebastian tapped his earpiece. "Dante. Trace the relay point on that burner ping. I don't care if it bounced through six proxy servers in Zurich. Find the origin."
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"Already on it, boss," Dante’s gravelly voice crackled back through the comm. "The carrier was a localized satellite uplink. It wasn't sent from across the world, Don Moretti. It was sent from within three blocks of the hospital."
Sebastian’s jaw clicked. He stared out the tinted glass as the convoy pulled into the rainy night, his dark eyes burning with cold fury. Whoever had funded Baby Miller’s birth wasn't watching from afar. They were breathing down their necks.
