“Boss?”
“Find Luca.”
Royce went still. “Luca’s at the Kinzie office.”
“Not for long.”
“You want him brought here?”
“No.” Cormack’s voice was quiet. “I want to know every call he took from Brin Holloway nine months ago. Every account that moved money to her. Every man he sent near her. Quietly.”
Royce’s eyes darkened. “You think he hid this?”
“I don’t think.”
Royce nodded once and moved away, already pulling out his phone.
Cormack stood in the corridor while the hospital roared softly around him. Families passed with balloons. A newborn cried behind a nearby door. A janitor pushed a yellow bucket slowly down the hall.
Normal life continued, obscene in its indifference.
At the far end of the corridor, Yara watched him.
This time she was not alone.
A tall man with silver hair stood beside her, dressed in a charcoal suit without a tie. Aurelio Salcedo had the face of a retired professor and the eyes of a man who had ordered too many graves to ever sleep well.
“Cormack,” Aurelio said.
Cormack did not move toward him. “This isn’t the time.”
“No,” Aurelio said. “It appears the time was nine months ago.”
Yara’s smile returned.
Cormack looked between them. “You came fast.”
“My daughter called me upset. I was nearby.”
That was a lie. Aurelio did not travel nearby anything by coincidence.
Cormack studied him. “Did Luca tell you?”
Yara’s smile thinned.
Aurelio’s face remained calm. “Tell me what?”
“That Brin Holloway was pregnant.”
“Should I know that name?”
Cormack stepped closer.
The two bodyguards near Aurelio shifted. Cormack’s men shifted too. For one breath, the maternity corridor became a battlefield disguised as a hospital wing.
A nurse snapped, “Gentlemen, not here.”
Cormack did not take his eyes off Aurelio.
Aurelio lifted one hand, and his men relaxed.
“This is an emotional day,” Aurelio said. “My daughter has been humiliated. Your private mistake has become a public complication. But I am not unreasonable.”
“No,” Cormack said. “You’re strategic.”
“Always.”
“What do you want?”
Aurelio’s gaze drifted toward the operating room doors. “Certainty.”
Cormack felt cold move through him.
Aurelio continued softly. “A child changes inheritance. Loyalty. Vulnerability. It creates blood where business requires clean lines.”
“You’re talking about my daughter.”
“I am talking about a problem.”
Cormack stepped so close their coats nearly touched. “Use that word again.”
Aurelio smiled faintly. “There he is.”
For years, men had mistaken Cormack’s restraint for civilization. But the thing beneath the suit had never died. It had only learned patience.
Yara touched her father’s arm. “Papa, let’s go. He’s made his choice.”
“No,” Aurelio said. “He hasn’t. Not yet.”
The operating room doors opened.
Dr. Roth emerged wearing a surgical cap, his mask hanging loose. There was blood on his sleeve.
Cormack turned so sharply everyone else vanished from his mind.
“The baby?” he asked.
“Alive,” Dr. Roth said.
The word went through him like a blade and a blessing.
Cormack’s breath left him.
“A girl,” the doctor continued. “She’s premature in distress, but the neonatal team has her. She’s breathing with support.”
Cormack gripped the wall.
“And Brin?”
Dr. Roth’s expression changed.
Cormack knew before he spoke.
“She survived the surgery,” the doctor said carefully. “But she’s unstable. Her heart function is severely compromised. We’re moving her to cardiac ICU. The next twenty-four hours are critical.”
Survived.
Unstable.
Critical.
The words formed a narrow bridge over a black river.
“Can I see the baby?”
“Soon. NICU has to stabilize her first.”
“Can I see Brin?”
“Not yet.”
Cormack nodded once because any other movement might have cracked him open.
Behind him, Aurelio said, “Congratulations.”
Cormack turned.
Aurelio’s tone had been polite. Almost warm.
That made it worse.
