Chapter 4 - THE FETAL MONITOR IN THE SILENT ROOM
The construction dust settled around Bianca’s unconscious body.
Enzo didn’t lower his gun immediately. He stared at Anthony’s captain, a man known simply as Russo, whose sheer size seemed to fill the unfinished hospital room.
“Anthony used the doctor as bait,” Enzo realized, the anger tightening his chest.
“Anthony used the situation as a test,” Russo corrected gruffly. He pulled a zip-tie from his heavy coat and quickly bound Bianca’s wrists behind her back. “He knew your mother’s operatives would target the doctor to remove Elena’s safety net. We let them take her to see if you would follow.”
Enzo holstered his weapon, stepping forward to untie a trembling Dr. Harris.
“Are you hurt?” Enzo asked the older woman gently.
“I’m fine,” Dr. Harris gasped, rubbing her wrists. She looked at the unconscious mistress on the floor, then at Enzo. The professional detachment she usually carried was gone, replaced by a fierce, protective urgency. “But your wife isn’t. Elena started contracting ten minutes ago. The stress is inducing early labor.”
The words hit Enzo harder than a physical blow.
He didn’t wait for Russo. He sprinted out of the room, Dr. Harris running right behind him.
They tore down the stairwell, throwing open the doors to the maternity ward.
The hallway was chaotic. Nurses moved quickly with carts of medical supplies. Two of Anthony’s men stood like statues outside Elena’s door, their hands resting near their waistbands.
When they saw Enzo approaching, they stepped together, physically blocking the entrance.
“Step aside,” Enzo commanded.
“Anthony’s orders, Bellini,” the taller guard said flatly. “You don’t go in.”
Enzo grabbed the man by the lapels, his immense strength lifting the guard slightly off his feet. “That is my wife. And my child. You move, or I will break your neck.”
Before the guards could react, the hospital door opened.
Anthony DeLuca stepped into the corridor.
The former Mafia boss looked older than he had hours ago. His charcoal overcoat was discarded, his shirtsleeves rolled up.
He looked at Enzo’s hands gripping his guard’s coat.
“Let him go, Enzo,” Anthony said quietly.
Enzo released the guard, taking a step toward his father-in-law.
“Bianca is restrained on the fourth floor,” Enzo reported, his voice hard. “My mother’s operatives are neutralized. The hospital is secure.”
“I know,” Anthony replied. “Russo just radioed me.”
“Then let me see her.”
Anthony didn’t move. He stood firmly in the doorway, an immovable wall between Enzo and the woman they both loved.
“She doesn’t want to see you, Enzo.”
“I don’t care what she wants right now. I need to know she’s safe.”
“She is safe,” Anthony said. “Because I am here.”
The absolute certainty in Anthony’s voice was a knife twisting in Enzo’s gut.
“I chose her,” Enzo pleaded, the terrifying Don suddenly looking like a desperate, terrified husband. “I walked away from my mother. I stopped Bianca. I chose Elena.”
“You chose her when it became a war,” Anthony countered, his eyes filled with a sad, hardened wisdom. “You are exceptional in a crisis, Enzo. You can dismantle a threat in five minutes. But marriage isn’t a war. It’s sitting in a quiet room, listening to a fetal monitor, and holding her hand when she’s terrified.”
Anthony stepped closer, lowering his voice so the guards couldn’t hear.
“You abandoned her in the quiet, Enzo. That’s the betrayal she can’t forgive.”
Inside the room, a machine began to beep rapidly.
Dr. Harris rushed past them, pushing into the room.
Enzo caught a glimpse of the interior before the door swung shut.
Elena was lying on her side, her face pale and glistening with sweat. She wasn’t looking at the door. She was staring blankly at the wall, her hands gripping the white hospital sheets so tightly her knuckles were white.
“Elena!” Enzo shouted, trying to push past Anthony.
“Code blue in Room 4!” a nurse yelled down the hallway.
Alarms blared. The steady, rhythmic whoosh-whoosh of the fetal monitor suddenly sputtered.
Then, it stopped.
A flat, continuous tone filled the corridor.
Enzo froze. The blood drained entirely from his body.
“The heartbeat,” Enzo whispered, absolute terror suffocating him. “Anthony… the heartbeat.”
Anthony turned, panic finally breaking his composed facade. He pushed into the room, leaving Enzo standing in the hallway.
Enzo tried to follow, but a swarm of medical staff rushed past him, physically shoving him backward as they wheeled a crash cart into the room.
The door was slammed shut.
Enzo stood in the chaotic corridor, completely alone.
He stared at the closed door, the flatlining tone echoing through the heavy wood.
He had spent his life building an empire of fear. He had controlled politicians, liquidated rivals, and amassed millions in offshore accounts. He had believed that power could protect anything.
But as he stood outside that door, listening to doctors shout medical codes he didn’t understand, he realized the agonizing truth.
His power was entirely useless.
He couldn’t buy his daughter’s next heartbeat. He couldn’t threaten death to save a life.
Suddenly, the door cracked open. A nurse rushed out, holding a blood-soaked towel.
Enzo grabbed her arm.
“Is she alive?” he begged.
The nurse looked at him with panicked, sympathetic eyes.
“She’s hemorrhaging severely, sir. We’re rushing her to the emergency OR right now.”
The nurse pulled away, sprinting toward the blood bank.
Enzo looked down.
Lying on the floor, dropped in the frantic rush by the medical staff, was a small, familiar object.
Enzo slowly knelt and picked it up.
It was a tiny, intricately folded piece of paper. A child’s drawing of a butterfly.
He recognized it instantly.
He had found it in Elena’s nightstand three weeks ago. She had drawn it while trying to decide on a nursery theme.
But as Enzo turned the paper over, he saw handwriting on the back.
Not Elena’s handwriting.
It was a note, written in sharp, aggressive cursive.
May you like
The DeLuca bloodline ends tonight. And the Bellini empire falls with it.
TITLE: The Burner Phone in the Scrub Room
