Chapter 5 - The Longest MinutesBack in the surgical suite, the hum of the monitors felt like a countdown clock.
Dr. Hayes and his team moved with swift, practiced precision around the room. An anesthesiologist stepped forward, gently placing an oxygen mask over my nose and mouth while explaining the spinal block procedure.
“You’re going to feel a cold sensation down your legs, Elena, and then a heavy numbness,” the anesthesiologist murmured soothingly. “Mr. Moretti gave strict instructions that he wants to be scrubbed in and standing right beside you. He’s walking down the hall right now.”
True to his word, just as the numbing medication began to take effect, the doors pushed open.
Adrian walked in, completely transformed in sterile blue surgical scrubs, a hair net pulled low over his forehead. His face was pale, but his eyes were locked entirely on mine. He strode across the room, taking my hand in his, squeezing it tightly.
“I’m here,” he whispered, leaning down so his mask brushed my cheek. “I’m right here, Elena. I’m not going anywhere.”
“The feds...?” I murmured, my voice muffled by the oxygen mask as a warm drape was pulled up across my chest, creating a sterile barrier between us and the surgical field.
“Agent Sterling is waiting in the library,” Adrian said smoothly, though his thumb stroked my knuckles in a steady, calming rhythm. “She’s giving us our time. Right now, the only thing happening in this house is the birth of our daughter.”
Dr. Hayes’s voice rang out from behind the drape.
“Scalpel, please. Beginning incision.”
The next few minutes were a blur of pressure, pulling, and the low, tense murmurs of the surgical team. I squeezed Adrian’s hand so hard my fingers ached, but I didn't feel any pain—only a strange, heavy tugging in my abdomen.
Adrian kept his eyes fixed on my face, whispering words of love and encouragement that I hadn't heard him speak in years—remindful of the man I had fallen in love with before the mafia wars and the corporate paranoia consumed our lives.
“She’s right there,” Adrian whispered, a sudden catch in his throat. “Elena... look.”
Dr. Hayes stood up slightly behind the drape, holding a tiny, squirming bundle wrapped in a sterile green blanket.
A second later, the room filled with the most beautiful, piercing sound in the world:
A sharp, healthy cry.
Tears spilled over my eyelashes, wetting the edges of the oxygen mask.
“It’s a girl,” Dr. Hayes announced, smiling warmly as he handed the crying infant over to the neonatal nurse standing by the warming table. “Ten fingers, ten toes, strong lungs. Let’s get her cleaned up and checked out.”
The nurse carried the baby over to the bassinet near our feet, adjusting the overhead lights.
Adrian let go of my hand for a brief second, stepping forward to look down at her. The tough, feared syndicate boss of Chicago—the man who had faced down federal agents and rival cartels without blinking—stood frozen, his broad shoulders shaking slightly as he looked at our daughter for the very first time.
He reached out with a gloved, trembling finger, touching her tiny cheek.
The baby stopped crying instantly, turning her head toward his touch just as she had done in the clinic ultrasound room hours earlier.
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Adrian looked back at me, his eyes overflowing with tears.
“She has your eyes, Elena,” he choked out, his voice thick with overwhelming emotion. “She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
