“We need to deliver the baby immediately by emergency C-section. Cardiology is assisting. There are risks. Significant ones.”
“Then do it.”
Dr. Roth’s expression hardened. “That decision belongs to Ms. Holloway.”
Cormack closed his mouth.
“She consented,” the doctor said. “But before we take her in, she asked for you.”
For the second time that day, Cormack froze.
“She asked for me?”
“Yes. You have about a minute.”
A minute.
Cormack Hale owned warehouses, judges, shipping lanes, bank accounts under names that did not exist. But all he had left with Brin Holloway was one minute.
Dr. Roth led him through a set of doors into a bright, urgent room filled with motion. Nurses prepared instruments. A monitor beeped too quickly. Someone adjusted an IV bag. The air smelled of blood, alcohol, and something metallic.
Brin lay under harsh lights, smaller than he remembered.
That was what nearly broke him.
She had never been small to him. Brin had been fire in a black apron, laughing at drunk men who thought money made them interesting. She had been midnight hair, quick hands, green eyes that saw through every lie he wore like a tailored coat. She had once told him he looked lonelier when surrounded by people.
Now her skin was almost gray.
An oxygen mask covered half her face. Her belly rose beneath the sheet. Her eyes found him, and despite everything, they were still Brin’s eyes.
Clear.
Furious.
Alive.
Cormack stopped beside the bed. “Brin.”
She lifted one trembling hand and pulled at the mask. A nurse moved to stop her, but Brin shook her head.
Her voice came out thin. “Don’t… act broken.”
His throat tightened. “I didn’t know.”
A faint, bitter smile touched her mouth. “You didn’t ask.”
There it was. Not shouted. Not dramatic. Worse. A simple fact laid bare between them like a corpse.
Cormack gripped the rail. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried.”
His brow furrowed.
Brin’s breathing hitched. “The night after you left. I called. Twice.”
“I never got—”
“Your man answered.”
Everything in him went still.
“Which man?”
She closed her eyes, gathering air. “Luca.”
The name slid into the room like a knife.
Luca Venn. His underboss. His brother in every way except blood. The man who had dragged Cormack out of a Cicero alley at seventeen with a cracked rib and a pocket full of stolen cash. The man who knew every password, every route, every body buried beneath every shining deal.
Cormack’s hand tightened around the rail until his knuckles paled.
“What did he say?”
Brin looked at him. “He said you were done with me. He said if I cared about the baby, I’d disappear before your enemies found out. He sent money. I sent it back.”
Cormack’s pulse slowed to something deadly.
“He knew?” he asked.
Brin gave a tiny nod.
“He knew you were pregnant?”
“Yes.”
The monitor beside her stuttered into a faster rhythm.
A nurse leaned in. “We need to move now.”
Brin’s eyes did not leave Cormack’s. “Listen to me.”
“I’m listening.”
“If I die—”
“You’re not dying.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Her voice gained sudden strength, sharp enough to cut through the room. “Not now.”
Cormack bent closer.
Brin’s fingers closed weakly around his cuff. “If I die, my daughter does not go to your house.”
Daughter.
The word detonated quietly inside him.
His daughter.
“You knew?” he whispered.
“She kicked every time I played Nina Simone.” Brin tried to smile and failed. “Stubborn. Like me.”
“Brin—”
“Promise me.”
He could promise men death without blinking. Promise cities silence. Promise judges retirement homes on private beaches. But this promise strangled him because it meant accepting a world where Brin might not walk out of this room.
“I’ll keep her safe,” he said.
Brin’s eyes flashed. “That is not what I asked.”
The nurse touched his shoulder. “Mr. Hale.”
Cormack leaned close enough that his forehead almost touched Brin’s. “I promise she won’t be raised in my world.”
Brin searched his face as if looking for the lie.
Then her grip loosened.
“Name,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Her name is Mara.”
Cormack closed his eyes.
Mara Hale.
No.
Mara Holloway.
Before he could answer, the bed was moving.
Nurses swept between them. The doors opened. Brin was rolled away beneath lights so bright they made her look already half gone.
Cormack stood alone in the room with the ghost of her hand still gripping his sleeve.
Then he turned.
Royce was waiting beyond the doors. His face changed when he saw Cormack’s.
