Chapter 12
The private medical suite on the third floor of the west wing was larger than any apartment Lily had ever lived in. The room was bathed in the warm, soothing glow of recessed lamps, entirely devoid of the cold, sterile ambiance of a public hospital. A crackling stone fireplace warmed the far corner, and two plush leather armchairs sat beside a state-of-the-art pediatric examination bassinet.
Dr. Campbell and Nurse Elena worked with practiced, whisper-quiet efficiency. True to Dominic’s word, Lily was never more than an arm’s length away. She stood on a small wooden step stool beside the examination table, her small hand firmly clasping Noah’s tiny, fragile fingers. Noah lay on a heated medical blanket, wearing only his diaper, his small ribs visible beneath his pale skin. He whimpered softly as Dr. Campbell listened to his chest with a warmed stethoscope, but every time the baby grew agitated, Lily leaned down, whispering familiar nursery rhymes until his breathing slowed.
Dominic stood near the door, his broad shoulders leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. His fitted charcoal-gray shirt was rolled to his forearms, the black tattoos stark against his skin. His piercing eyes never left the table, tracking every movement of the doctors with an intensity that kept the medical staff on their absolute best behavior.
"Lungs are clear, though there is minor bronchial inflammation from the cold," Dr. Campbell reported, looking up at Dominic with professional seriousness. "The primary concern is acute dehydration and caloric deficiency. He is roughly four pounds underweight for an eight-month-old. We need to administer pediatric electrolytes via an intravenous line, followed by a high-density clinical formula."
"Will the needle hurt him?" Lily asked suddenly, her voice thick with panic, her eyes darting between the nurse preparing an IV kit and her brother’s tiny arm.
"It will be a tiny pinch, sweetheart," Nurse Elena explained kindly, her voice soft. "Just for a second. Then it will give him the water and vitamins he needs to feel strong again."
Dominic walked over to the table. His towering presence made the physicians instinctively take half a step back. He reached out and gently laid his massive, warm hand over Lily’s shoulder. The weight of his hand was grounding, an anchor in the storm of her anxiety. "Hold his other hand, Lily. Look at me, not the needle."
Lily clamped her eyes shut and buried her face against Dominic’s hip, gripping his trousers with her uninjured hand while keeping her other hand wrapped around Noah’s fingers. Noah let out a brief, sharp cry as the tiny pediatric needle was inserted into the back of his hand, but within seconds, the IV was secured with soft medical tape, and the soothing flow of warm saline began to replenish his exhausted little body.
"Now, young lady," Dr. Campbell said, turning his attention to Lily. "Let’s take a look at that wrist."
Dominic gently lifted Lily’s right arm, carefully sliding the heavy sleeve of her oversized burgundy cardigan past her elbow. Under the bright medical examination lamp, the injury looked sickeningly vivid. A thick, dark collar of deep purple, black, and yellowish bruising encircled the delicate bones of her wrist, accompanied by visible swelling.
Dr. Campbell gently palpated the joint, his jaw tightening in professional disgust. "There is severe soft tissue trauma and hairline stress on the distal radius, but fortunately, the bone is not fully fractured. Another millimeter of pressure from a grown man’s grip would have shattered it."
A dangerous, suffocating chill entered the room. Dominic didn't say a word, but the veins on his neck bulged slightly beneath his dark tattoos. He had already ordered Marcus’s hands destroyed, but in that moment, he felt the punishment had been entirely too lenient.
Dr. Campbell applied a cooling anti-inflammatory salve to the bruising, carefully wrapping Lily’s wrist in a supportive, lightweight fiberglass splint secured with black medical wrap. "Keep this on for two weeks. It will stabilize the joint and alleviate the pain."
As the doctors began packing their diagnostic kits, Dr. Campbell stepped over to Dominic, lowering his voice. "We’ve started the infant on a slow IV drip. He will sleep for the next eight hours. Both children need high-protein diets, absolute rest, and an environment free of stress. If Noah’s fever spikes above a hundred and one, call me immediately."
"Thank you, Doctor. Vance will escort you out," Dominic murmured.
Once the medical team departed, Mrs. Gable brought in a silver tray laden with warm, rich chicken noodle soup, freshly baked rolls, and a pot of chamomile tea. She placed it on the low table near the fireplace.
"Come sit, Lily," Dominic said, gesturing toward the plush armchair.
Lily walked over and climbed into the massive chair, looking completely engulfed by the soft leather. She took a spoonful of the warm soup, the rich flavor making her eyes flutter shut in pure, unadulterated relief. For the first time in weeks, the gnawing, hollow ache in her stomach began to recede.
Dominic pulled the second armchair closer, sitting down with a quiet sigh. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his piercing gray-blue eyes fixed on the little girl.
"Lily," Dominic spoke, his voice gentle but probing. "The doctor said you and Noah have been living on the streets for at least three weeks. Where are your parents?"
Lily stopped chewing, her spoon hovering over the porcelain bowl. A shadow crossed her young face, extinguishing the brief spark of warmth. She swallowed hard, staring down at the soup.
"My mom died when Noah was born," Lily whispered, her fingers nervously picking at the fabric of her pale-yellow dress. "There were complications. It was just me, my dad, and the baby."
"And your father?" Dominic asked softly. "Marcus said he skipped town over a debt."
Lily’s eyes flared with a sudden, fierce protectiveness. "My dad isn't a bad man! He didn't abandon us because he wanted to! He was terrified!"
Dominic remained entirely calm, his posture open and patient. "Tell me about him, Lily. What was his name?"
Lily looked at the powerful mafia boss, hesitating for a long moment before whispering, "His name is Daniel Evans. He was an accountant."
Dominic’s sharp mind instantly categorized the name. Evans. A cold, dangerous realization clicked into place within his tactical memory. "Daniel Evans? He worked for Moretti Logistics at the South Side port terminal?"
Lily’s eyes widened in shock. "You... you know him?"
"I know of him," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a deadly, calculated murmur. Daniel Evans was not a gambler or a street degenerate. He was the senior chief financial auditor who had abruptly vanished from Dominic’s primary logistics headquarters three weeks ago, right before a massive corporate audit was scheduled to take place.
"My dad didn't gamble," Lily cried softly, tears welling in her eyes. "He came home three weeks ago with blood on his shirt. He was frantic. He told me that men in suits were going to kill him because he found something in the shipping books he wasn't supposed to see. He told me to hide with Noah in the basement of our apartment. He said he was going to draw them away, and that he would come back for us."
She wiped a tear from her cheek with her splinted arm. "He never came back. Then two weeks ago, that man Marcus kicked our door open. He said my dad stole fifty thousand dollars and an encrypted file from a man named Sal. He said if I didn't give him the file, he would sell Noah to pay the debt. I ran out the fire escape while Marcus was tearing the apartment apart. We’ve been hiding in abandoned subway tunnels ever since."
Dominic felt the blood in his veins turn to liquid nitrogen.
Sal. Salvatore Rossi. Dominic’s senior capo who oversaw the South Side shipping docks and commercial trucking unions.
Daniel Evans hadn't skipped town over a gambling debt. The accountant had uncovered Salvatore Rossi running an unauthorized, treasonous operation through Dominic’s ports. Sal had tried to murder the accountant to bury the evidence, fabricated a fake debt, and dispatched street collectors to hunt down two starving children to retrieve whatever proof Daniel had left behind.
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Dominic slowly reached out and covered Lily’s small, uninjured hand with his own. His face was an unreadable mask of stone, but beneath the surface, a cataclysmic war was being declared.
"Eat your soup, Lily," Dominic said softly, his voice an ironclad promise that shook the quiet room. "Your running is over. I am going to find your father, and I am going to tear Salvatore Rossi’s empire down to the dirt."
