The man nods immediately. "Dr. Carmichael. She's female, Boss. Confirmed."
Moira relaxes slightly, just a fraction.
"May I at least check your blood pressure?" Dr. Esposito keeps his voice professional and understanding. "It's non-invasive. Just vitals so the hospital knows what they're dealing with."
Moira hesitates, then nods.
Mom shifts back to give him room, but doesn't let go of Moira's hand.
Dr. Esposito wraps the blood pressure cuff around Moira's arm, watching the numbers carefully. After a moment, he removes it. "Slightly elevated." He closes his bag. "Getting her to the hospital is the right call. They'll be able to monitor both mother and baby properly there." He steps back. "I'll follow you. Just in case."
Lorenzo moves closer, his hand finding Moira's. "Amore mio." His voice drops to something soft and protective. The transformation was instant, from the man who was ready to kill everyone to the husband who would burn the world down for her. "Let's get you to the hospital. I'm going to lift you now. You tell me if anything, anything at all, causes you discomfort or pain. I'll adjust."
Moira nods.
Lorenzo slides one arm beneath Moira's knees, the other supporting her back with excruciating care. He lifts her, adjusting his grip immediately when her breath hitches.
"The pillow." Moira's voice catches. "Can you—"
"I have it, Mrs. Carlucci." Lorenzo's right-hand man appears beside them, phone pressed to his ear with one hand while the other grabs the pillow my sister wants to take.
"I'm following them to the hospital." Mom's voice cuts through the room with that no-argument tone. She's already moving toward the door, her purse in hand. "Connor!"
Her shout echoes through the mansion. I walk toward my sister's side. Lorenzo pauses, giving me a moment with her. I lean down and press a kiss to Moira's forehead.
"I'll be right behind you. You're not going to the hospital without me."
Moira's hand finds mine, squeezing tight. "Promise? The whole time?"
"The whole time. I promise."
She smiles, but then another contraction hits, and I see the pain ripple across her face.
Please God, keep that little guy in there a little longer. Give his lungs more time. Give my sister strength and keep her safe.
Lorenzo's eyes meet mine over Moira's head. No threat, no intimidation, just understanding. He nods once, a promise without words. He'll make sure I get to her. Whatever it takes.
"Ready?" he asks her, not the room. Only her.
"Yes," Moira says.
They move toward the door. Lorenzo's entire focus narrows to the woman in his arms. His right-hand man walks beside them. He's on the phone, coordinating.
Anton's hand finds the small of my back. Warm. Steady.
For a second, I lean into him, letting myself breathe. I watch my sister disappear out of the room, cradled in her husband's arms. Then I straighten. Time to move.
I follow the procession. Anton stays close without hovering, his presence something I've come to count on.
Lorenzo carries Moira through the atrium. His men swarm around them, creating a protective wall. The front door stands open, engines already running outside.
Dad stands near the stairs, just watching everything unfold. Not moving toward the door. Not heading outside to make sure Moira's car is ready. Not doing anything except standing there like a spectator at someone else's emergency.
Mom's voice cuts through the noise. "Where's Thomas?" She looks around, then spots her driver near the door. "There you are. We're going to the hospital. Now."
Her bodyguard steps up beside her, already moving.
"Yes, Mrs. Quinn."
