Chapter 4 - The Fortress of GlassAdrian didn't flinch. The vulnerable, emotional man who had held me seconds ago instantly retreated, replaced by the dangerous, calculating billionaire who ruled the city's underbelly.
"Lock down the floor," Adrian ordered, his voice dropping into a register that sent chills down my spine. "Nobody enters or leaves the NICU without my personal biometric clearance."
"Adrian, what's happening?" I panicked, trying to swing my legs over the edge of the bed despite the searing pain in my stitches.
"Stay in bed, Lena," Adrian commanded softly, turning to me and kissing my forehead with intense focus. "Julian, bring the mobile incubator transport up here. We're moving Lena and the baby to the estate in Greenwich within the hour."
"Is it safe to move him?" I cried out.
"It's safer than staying here," Adrian replied. "My estate has a private, fully staffed surgical suite and NICU facility built underground. I built it six months ago... when I was still searching the country for you."
My heart hammered in my chest. He built a hospital wing for us while I was hiding in a tiny rented apartment in Brooklyn?
Within forty-five minutes, the operation was executed with military precision.
I was placed in a specialized wheelchair while our newborn son—wrapped in a clear, temperature-controlled transport incubator—was wheeled beside us by two top NICU nurses under heavy armed guard.
For the first time, I saw my son through the glass of the incubator.
He was so small, his little chest rising and falling beneath tiny monitor wires, a faint dusting of dark hair covering his head—just like Adrian's.
"He looks like you," I whispered, reaching through the gloved porthole of the incubator to touch his tiny, feather-light fingers.
"He has your chin," Adrian said, standing beside me as the private medical helicopter landed on the hospital roof pad, its rotors kicking up a storm of wind and rain. "And his name is Leo."
I looked up at him, surprised. "Leo?"
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"Leo Vance Whitmore," Adrian said, his eyes softening as he looked down at our son. "If that's acceptable to you, Mrs. Whitmore."
Despite the danger, despite the rain whipping around us, a small, genuine smile touched my lips. "It's perfect."
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