Chapter 2 - The Choice
Lucia’s vision blurred at the edges, but her hearing remained crystal clear.
She heard the gasps of the nurses.
She heard the heavy footsteps of Claudia’s men blocking the only exit.
“Excuse me, ma'am, you cannot be in here,” the obstetrician said, stepping between Claudia and the bed.
Claudia did not even look at the doctor.
She kept her cold, aristocratic eyes fixed on Lucia.
“Dante called me from his car and told me you were having complications,” Claudia said.
“He told me to take over your medical proxy.”
Lucia’s heart hammered against her ribs, competing with the frantic rhythm of her unborn child.
Dante had handed her life over to a woman who had hated her since the day of the wedding.
“I revoked his proxy,” Lucia managed to whisper.
Claudia laughed, a dry and humorless sound.
“A piece of paper doesn't mean anything in this city, Lucia.”
She turned to her men.
“Restrain the medical staff until they agree to my terms.”
The four men in suits stepped forward, reaching into their jackets.
The doctors froze in absolute terror.
Lucia tried to sit up, but the blood loss made her head spin violently.
Suddenly, a deafening gunshot echoed through the sterile room.
Claudia’s men flinched, turning toward the doorway.
Michael Grant stood there with his weapon drawn and smoking.
He had fired a warning shot directly into the ceiling.
“Step away from the bed,” Michael ordered, his voice dangerously calm.
Claudia sneered at him.
“You work for my son, Michael.”
“I work for Dante,” Michael agreed, keeping his gun leveled at the closest bodyguard.
“But my orders were to protect his wife, not to let his mother murder her.”
He looked at the trembling obstetrician.
“Get her to surgery.”
“Now!” Michael roared.
The medical team snapped out of their shock and began pushing Lucia’s bed toward the doors.
Michael walked backward with them, keeping his gun trained on Claudia’s men.
As the bed rolled down the bright fluorescent hallway, the pain swallowed Lucia whole.
The anesthesia mask was placed over her face.
“Count backward from ten,” a voice echoed from somewhere far away.
Before she could reach eight, a hand grabbed the surgeon's shoulder.
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Through closing eyes, Lucia saw Dante standing in the operating room doorway, his coat completely drenched in rain.
“Stop the surgery,” Dante commanded.
