Page 78 of Broken Vows

"Everything looks good so far," Dr. Chen murmurs, but there's tension in her voice that wasn't there before. "But the baby's lungs aren't fully developed. We'll need the NICU team standing by."

My phone buzzes against my chest—urgent messages that I ignore. Nothing matters except the woman on this table and the child about to enter our violent world.

"Vincent," Melinda whispers, her voice barely audible over the monitors. "If something happens to me?—"

"Nothing's going to happen," I cut her off, squeezing her hand. "You're the strongest person I know. You've survived everything life has thrown at you. This is just one more fight."

"Promise me," she insists. "Promise me you'll protect her. No matter what."

"I promise," I tell her, meaning every word. "On my mother's grave, I promise."

Dr. Chen's voice cuts through our conversation. "I can see the head. Almost there."

Then everything happens at once. A weak cry fills the room—not the strong wail of a healthy newborn, but something fragile and desperate. Dr. Chen moves quickly, placing our daughter in the hands of the NICU team who immediately begin working over her tiny form.

"Is she okay?" Melinda asks, trying to lift her head to see.

"She's breathing," Dr. Chen says carefully. "But she's very small, very early. The next few hours will be critical."

I catch a glimpse of our daughter as they wheel her toward the NICU—impossibly tiny, skin translucent, more precious than every dollar in my accounts combined. She's perfect and fragile and mine.

My phone buzzes again, more insistently this time. Tony's voice comes through my earpiece. "Boss, we've got a problem. Your father's mobilizing. Full deployment against Mastroni territories."

The words hit like ice water. "What?"

"Emergency meeting called one hour ago. Marco's being treated as a martyr. Antonio's telling everyone the Mastronis tried to assassinate his son at the summit."

I step away from Melinda's bedside, keeping my voice low. "How many casualties?"

"Three Mastroni safe houses hit simultaneously. At least twelve dead, including civilians." Tony's voice is grim. "Boss, it's a fucking war zone out there."

I close my eyes, feeling the weight of impossible choices. My father is using Marco's injuries as justification for genocide, and I'm trapped between my newborn daughter fighting for life and a city about to burn.

"Double security here," I order. "Nobody gets within five blocks without my approval. And Tony? Start reaching out to our most loyal captains. The ones who'll follow me regardless of what my father says."

"Boss, what are you thinking?"

I look back at Melinda, pale and exhausted but alive, then toward the NICU where our daughter struggles for every breath. "I'm thinking it's time to choose a side."

"Vincent?" Melinda's voice calls me back to her bedside. "What's happening out there?"

I smooth the hair back from her forehead, forcing my face into calm lines. "Nothing that can't wait. Rest now. Focus on getting better."

***

The NICU is a temple of machines and hushed voices, our daughter barely visible beneath the tangle of tubes and wires keeping her alive. She weighs two pounds, fourteen ounces—Dr. Chen announces the numbers like battle statistics, which in a way, they are.

"Her lungs are the primary concern," Dr. Chen explains, adjusting monitors with practiced efficiency. "We're providing respiratory support, but the next seventy-two hours will determine her long-term prognosis."

I stare at this impossibly small person who carries my blood, my name, my entire fucking future in her tiny chest.

She doesn't even have a name yet—we'd planned to wait, to see her face before deciding. Now she's fighting for life while the city tears itself apart around us.

"Can I touch her?" I ask, my voice rougher than I intended.

"Briefly. Through the ports." Dr. Chen shows me how to reach through the incubator's openings, my large hands clumsy inside the sterile gloves. When my finger touches her palm, she grips it with surprising strength. The gesture hits me like a physical blow.

This tiny warrior is mine to protect.

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