Chapter 3 - Sins of the Father-in-Law
The shrill fire sirens pulsed red against the walls as Sal dragged Julian by his designer necktie into the center of the nursery. The scent of cordite mixed with baby powder, creating a nauseating cocktail.
""Chicago,"" Sal hissed, planting his polished Oxford shoe directly onto Julian’s solar plexus, pressing down until the younger man gasped for air. ""I buried that Syndicate thirty years ago. I wiped their leadership off the map before you were even out of short pants. Why are they knocking on my hospital door?""
""I didn't know!"" Julian sobbed, spit flying from his lips. ""I swear to God, Sal! I borrowed eight million from a broker in Manhattan. Private hedge fund. High interest, collateralized by offshore accounts! When the portfolio collapsed, the debt was bought out by an anonymous firm called Ouroboros. They contacted me two months ago. They said the debt was settled—erased entirely—if I handed over Elena’s firstborn child within one hour of delivery!""
Elena looked at her husband with absolute horror, her hands covering her mouth. ""You sold our child... for a bad stock trade?""
""It wasn't just a trade!"" Julian shrieked, losing his mind entirely. ""They showed me pictures of my parents, my sister, my nephews! They said if I didn't deliver the Moretti heir, they would skin everyone I loved alive! They knew who your father was, Elena! This was never about my money—it was about luring him out!""
Sal’s eyes flickered. He understood now. Julian wasn't a mastermind; he was bait. A greedy, weak-willed idiot used to create a fracture in Sal's defenses. For years, Sal had lived in relative obscurity, hiding his operations behind shell companies and charities, keeping Elena isolated and protected from the sins of his past. But blood has a way of leaving a scent.
""They used you to verify the line,"" Sal murmured, releasing Julian's chest. ""They needed proof that the bloodline survived.""
Suddenly, the lights throughout the entire fourth floor flickered and died. The emergency backup generators didn't kick on. Complete pitch-black darkness swallowed the maternity wing, leaving only the dull red glow of the emergency exit signs.
From the hallway ceiling vents, the faint hiss of pressurized gas began to leak into the room.
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""Frank! Gas masks, now!"" Sal roared, scooping the baby from the bassinet with one arm, cradling the fragile head securely against his chest.
Before Frank could reach into his duffel bag, the heavy steel security fire doors at both ends of the ward slammed shut with a deafening hydraulic bang, locking them inside a steel tomb.
