Chapter 2 - The Barrel of a Gun
The moment Leo felt the warmth of Elena’s chest, his frantic movements eased slightly. Elena sat down quietly in the rocking chair beside the crib, shielding the baby from the cool draft of the room.
Her heart melted as she looked down at his tiny face. Instincts she had buried deep since the loss of her daughter surfaced instantly. She adjusted Leo’s position, holding him securely against her skin, offering him the comfort and natural warmth he had been missing.
Slowly, instinctively, the tiny baby reached out and latched on. After weeks of rejecting rubber nipples and specialized feeding tubes, Leo finally began to nurse.
His weak crying stopped completely.
Beside the chair, the digital heart monitor’s erratic beep smoothed into a steady, rhythmic pulse. The sharp tension in Leo’s small body melted away into quiet satisfaction.
Tears gathered in Elena’s dark eyes and slid down her cheeks in absolute silence. It was a bittersweet release—the overwhelming love she had kept locked away for her own lost child suddenly finding a purpose in saving another’s life.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the nursery swung open with violent force.
Lorenzo Rossi stepped into the room, his towering frame instantly filling the doorway. At forty-two, Lorenzo was a striking figure of absolute authority—muscular, sharply handsome, with thick dark wavy hair, dark eyes, and light stubble outlining a rigid jawline. He wore his signature fitted black suit, white dress shirt, and black tie, with subtle ink creeping up his neck and hands.
Behind him, Marcus Vale, his disciplined head of security, stepped in with his hand hovering over his sidearm, his earpiece flickering green.
Lorenzo’s dark eyes locked onto Elena sitting in the dark with his son. In his world, an unauthorized person holding his fragile heir meant only one thing: an attempt on his family.
In one fluid motion, Lorenzo drew his silver-trimmed pistol from beneath his tailored jacket and aimed it straight at Elena’s head.
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"Put my son down," Lorenzo commanded, his voice a low, terrifying rumble that vibrated through the room.
Elena froze. She pressed her back against the chair, instinctively curving her body over Leo to shield him from the weapon, her dark brown hair falling around her face.
