Chapter 3 - First Light in the Nursery
The baby was small, born three weeks early, with a crown of dark hair and a fragile, rapid heartbeat that required immediate monitoring in the neonatal intensive care unit. They named him Leo, meaning lion, a wish for strength he would desperately need.
Gabriel stood outside the glass partition of the NICU, his reflection ghostly against the blue phototherapy lights. His cream jacket was draped over a plastic waiting room chair, his black shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. He watched the tiny chest rise and fall beneath the plastic dome.
Behind him, footsteps echoed on the polished linoleum. Clara sat in a wheelchair, pushed by a night nurse. Her face was pale, shadowed by exhaustion, but her eyes held a new, fierce clarity.
"He looks like he’s made of glass," Clara said softly, rolling up beside Gabriel.
"Glass tempered in fire is the strongest kind," Gabriel replied, crouching down so he was at eye level with her. He reached out, gently tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "The pediatric cardiologist looked at the early scans. The valve defect is mild, Clara. He’s going to live. He’s going to run, laugh, and drive you crazy."
May you like
Clara laughed weakly, a sound that quickly dissolved into fresh tears. She reached out, grasping Gabriel’s forearm. "Why did you do this, Gabriel? Julian is your brother. By standing between us, you gave up your seat on the foundation board. You gave up his peace."
"Peace bought with cruelty is no peace at all," Gabriel said quietly. "My father spent forty years building monuments to his own name while his family starved for genuine affection. I won't let Julian do that to another generation. Leo is not a Sterling asset. He is a child."
