Chapter 3 - The Private Wing at St. Jude
By 1:30 AM, the 4th-floor VIP trauma suite at St. Jude Memorial was bathed in the quiet, steady glow of medical monitors.
Elena lay in the center of the spacious room beneath thick thermal blankets, receiving targeted antibiotic infusions and respiratory therapy. Her breathing had evened out, and a faint, healthy color was beginning to return to her cheekbones.
In the adjoining private lounge, Lily was curled up fast asleep on an oversized leather sofa, wrapped in Dante’s cashmere coat, clutching a brand-new plush velvet rabbit that Marco had procured from a 24-hour luxury boutique.
Dante sat in an armchair beside Elena’s bed, his dark suit jacket draped over the back of the chair, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar.
Dr. Russo walked in quietly, holding a sealed gold-embossed medical portfolio.
“The DNA results, Mr. Moretti,” Dr. Russo whispered, handing him the parchment.
Dante didn’t need to read the 99.998% probability index. He looked at the sheet for two seconds, folded it with surgical precision, and slipped it into his pocket.
“How long until she wakes up?” Dante asked.
“The antibiotics have cleared the acute pulmonary congestion,” Dr. Russo replied. “Her fever has broken. She will regain consciousness within the hour.”
Ten minutes later, Elena stirred.
Her eyelashes fluttered open. She looked at the polished mahogany walls of the hospital suite, the soft ambient lighting, and finally at the man sitting beside her bed.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the gentle hum of the rain against the double-paned glass windows.
“You didn’t leave Chicago,” Dante said softly, breaking the silence.
Elena looked down at her hands, tears welling in her hazel eyes. “I couldn’t go far. I had sixty dollars in my purse and a positive pregnancy test in my pocket.”
Dante leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his voice dropping into a register of deep, agonizing sorrow.
“Why did you run from me, Elena? You knew what I was. You knew I would have torn this city down brick by brick to keep you safe.”
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Elena looked up, her gaze raw with the terror of a nightmare she had carried alone for five years.
“Because if I stayed,” Elena choked out, “Julian said you would die.”
