Chapter 2 - THE BLOODLINE ON ICE
The heavy doors of the surgical wing clicked shut behind me.
The click sounded like a vault sealing.
I pressed my back against the cold corridor wall.
Leo’s body felt light in my arms.
Far too light.
A nurse in sea-green scrubs touched my shoulder.
Her eyes were gentle.
"Clare? We have him now. You need to let him lie down."
I looked down at his face.
His eyelashes fluttered against his pale cheeks.
A faint purple tint shadowed his lips.
"Is Dr. Vance ready?" my voice cracked.
"The team is scrubbing in," she whispered. "Pre-op is set."
I laid Leo onto the gurney.
The metal frame gave a soft rattle.
He stirred, reaching out blindly into the cold air.
His fingers caught the cuff of my sweater.
"Mommy?"
"Right here, baby."
"My chest feels like a drum."
My heart splintered into a thousand jagged pieces.
"I know, my brave boy. The doctors are going to fix the drum."
"Will it play soft music after?"
Tears burned behind my eyes.
I swallowed them down.
"Soft as a lullaby," I whispered, kissing his forehead.
The skin burned against my lips.
Then they wheeled him past the double red doors.
RESTRICTED ACCESS. SURGICAL PERSONNEL ONLY.
The doors swung shut.
The world went violently quiet.
I turned around.
Adrien stood on the other side of the glass.
He had not moved an inch.
His tall frame blocked the hospital lights behind him.
His chest rose and fell in ragged bursts.
His eyes were fixed on the door where Leo had disappeared.
I walked toward the consultation lounge.
He followed me like a ghost tethered to an anchor.
The lounge was deserted.
Plastic chairs.
A muted television flickering in the corner.
Rain lashed against the fourth-floor windows.
I sat on the edge of a chair, clasping my hands together.
Adrien entered and locked the door behind him.
The deadbolt snapped into place.
He stripped off his soaked suit jacket and flung it onto a table.
His white shirt clung to his shoulders.
His hands were trembling.
I had known Adrien Moretti for eight years.
I had seen him navigate boardroom takeovers worth billions.
I had seen federal prosecutors threaten him with prison without flinching.
I had never seen his hands shake.
"Five years, Clare."
His voice was a gravel road.
"Five years you made me believe you walked away."
I stared at the scuff marks on my worn sneakers.
"I didn't make you believe anything, Adrien. You signed the papers."
"Because you asked for nothing!"
The shout rattled the plastic blinds.
He caught himself, lowering his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You took nothing," he said, raw and quiet. "No alimony. No property. Just that card."
"Which I never touched."
"Until today."
"Until today," I agreed.
He stepped closer.
The scent of cedarwood, rain, and cold leather washed over me.
It was the smell of a life I had buried.
"Why didn't you call me when you found out?" he demanded.
His gray eyes bore into mine.
"I was pregnant with triplets, Adrien. Do you remember what your life was like that month?"
His jaw hardened.
"I remember," he said stiffly.
"A pipe bomb blew out the front windows of your harbor office," I said, my voice steady. "Two men followed my car to the grocery store. Your uncle Victor told me that anyone close to you was collateral damage."
Adrien’s pupils constricted.
"Victor told you that?"
"He said your enemies wouldn't hesitate to cut open my belly to send you a message."
A terrifying stillness settled over Adrien.
His posture went rigid.
The air in the room dropped ten degrees.
"And you believed him?"
"I believed the bullets that shattered our kitchen window the night before I left!"
Silence slammed between us.
He stared at me, his breath hitching in his chest.
"I moved you to the safehouse in Maine," he whispered. "You vanished from the back gate."
"Because someone cut the brake lines on the SUV in that driveway, Adrien!"
I stood up, facing him.
My voice didn't shake.
"I wasn't going to let my babies die in a crossfire between you and your harbor rivals."
Adrien reached out, his fingers hovering inches from my arm.
He pulled back, curling his hand into a fist.
"I tore Boston apart looking for you," he choked out. "I thought you were dead. I thought they took you."
"I took myself. To protect them."
"And the other two?" His voice cracked again. "Where are they?"
"Safe. With a neighbor in South Boston."
"What are their names?"
"Julian. And Noah."
A soft gasp broke from his throat.
"Julian," he repeated. "After my grandfather."
"Julian has your stubborn jaw. Noah has your quiet hands. And Leo..."
My voice caught.
I looked at the surgical doors across the hall.
"Leo has your heart."
A sudden knock slammed against the lounge door.
Adrien unlocked it in a single motion.
A doctor in blue scrubs stood there, mask pulled down.
His face was grim.
"Mrs. Moretti?"
"Yes, Dr. Vance!" I surged forward. "What's wrong?"
"We opened the chest cavity," Dr. Vance said rapidly. "The ventricular septal defect is wider than the scans indicated. There’s severe arterial bleeding."
My knees buckled.
Adrien caught me by the waist.
His arm was iron around my ribs.
"What do you need?" Adrien barked.
"He has a rare AB-negative sub-variant with Bombay phenotype antigens," the surgeon said. "The hospital blood bank only had two units. We used both. The regional blood bank in Worcester is delayed due to flash flooding."
Dr. Vance looked at me, desperate.
"We need a direct family donor. Right now."
My breath seized.
"I'm O-positive," I sobbed. "I can't give it to him."
Adrien stepped past me.
He rolled up his left sleeve with violent precision.
His gray eyes locked onto the surgeon.
"I'm AB-negative Bombay," Adrien said. "Take whatever you need."
Dr. Vance stared at him for half a second.
"Follow me to pre-op. Now."
Adrien turned to look at me.
His face was pale, his eyes burning with a desperate fire.
"I won't let our son die, Clare," he said.
He disappeared down the corridor behind the doctor.
I stood alone in the hallway.
My phone vibrated in my coat pocket.
It was an unknown number.
A text message appeared on the screen:
May you like
We saw the black card ping at Boston Children's. You should have stayed dead, Clare.
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