Chapter 4 - THE MILK THAT SAVED HIM
Dr. Hannah Reed arrived forty minutes later.
She was a pediatric specialist known for refusing private work for criminal families.
Lorenzo had once funded a children’s wing at her hospital.
She considered that payment for coming.
Nothing more.
She examined Leo inside a secure guest room.
I sat in a chair beside the bed while he continued nursing.
Every time I looked down, I saw Lily.
Not clearly.
Only pieces.
The curve of a cheek I never watched grow.
Tiny fingers that never closed around mine.
Feeding Leo did not replace my daughter.
It made her absence louder.
Dr. Reed drew blood.
She tested the remaining formula.
She examined the donor-milk bags.
Then she opened the bottle warmer.
A clear tube ran through its base.
The tube connected to a hidden reservoir beneath the counter.
Someone had built a system that injected medication into every bottle as it warmed.
“The child was not rejecting food,” she said.
“He was responding to a sedative and a neuromuscular suppressant.”
Lorenzo stood near the window.
“What does that mean?”
“It weakened his ability to suck and swallow.”
“The more you tried to feed him, the weaker he became.”
“Why did he nurse from Maya?”
“Direct feeding bypassed the contaminated equipment.”
Dr. Reed looked at me.
“Her milk may also contain antibodies and hormones that helped stabilize him.”
Lorenzo’s face tightened.
“Will he survive?”
“If we stop the exposure and treat the dehydration, his chances are good.”
I closed my eyes.
Leo swallowed again.
The sound filled the room.
Dr. Reed examined me next.
I resisted.
“I’m not your patient.”
“You are feeding a medically fragile infant after a traumatic delivery.”
“That makes you my patient for the next ten minutes.”
She checked my blood pressure.
It was dangerously high.
She asked when I last ate.
I could not remember.
She asked whether I had received follow-up care after losing Lily.
I laughed without humor.
“Follow-up care costs money.”
Lorenzo looked away.
Dr. Reed lowered her voice.
“Feeding Leo may increase your physical pain.”
“It may also intensify grief.”
“You can stop.”
I looked down at the child.
His fingers had closed around the edge of my uniform.
“If I stop tonight, will he take a clean bottle?”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly is not good enough.”
Lorenzo stepped forward.
“You are not obligated to save him.”
I looked at the gun still visible beneath his jacket.
“Twenty minutes ago, you were going to shoot me for holding him.”
“I was wrong.”
The admission came without defense.
Men like Lorenzo Rossi were not known for apologizing.
I looked toward the locked door.
“Someone inside your house planned to frame me and murder your son.”
“If I leave, they will try again.”
His eyes met mine.
“You want to stay?”
“No.”
I wanted my daughter.
I wanted to wake up three weeks earlier and refuse to climb those stairs.
I wanted a body that did not keep preparing food for a child buried beneath frozen ground.
None of those things were possible.
“I need to stay,” I said.
“Until Leo is safe.”
Dr. Reed prepared clean formula.
Leo refused the first bottle.
He cried weakly until I held him again.
The moment he smelled my skin, he calmed.
Lorenzo watched from the corner.
Grief moved across his face.
His wife, Elena Rossi, had died two months earlier after childbirth complications.
Leo was the last piece of her.
I understood the terror behind his gun now.
Understanding did not erase it.
Dante entered carrying a laptop.
“The messages from Derek’s phone are decrypted.”
Lorenzo moved toward him.
Dante opened the first file.
It showed payments to Derek, Victor Salvi, and Dr. Adrian Vale.
The authorization did not carry Camilla’s name.
It carried Lorenzo’s electronic signature.
He stared at the screen.
“I never approved these.”
Dante opened the security log.
“The authorization came from your private office.”
“During Elena’s funeral.”
Only three people had entered that office that day.
Lorenzo.
May you like
Camilla.
And his half-brother Enzo.
