Chapter 6 - THE MAN IN THE FAMILY PORTRAITLorenzo wanted to leave the hospital immediately.
I had never heard Lorenzo shout before.
Dr. Hayes crossed the room in seconds.
Leo’s rash spread from his stomach toward his chest.
Small red patches.
Raised.
Angry.
I handed him over reluctantly.
“What is happening?”
Hayes checked his breathing.
“Could be an allergic response.”
“To what? He hasn’t had anything except breast milk.”
Hayes looked at me.
“What did you eat today?”
“Nothing unusual.”
“Medication?”
“No.”
“Supplements?”
“No.”
Leo started coughing.
My heart stopped.
“Do something.”
“I am.”
Hayes opened his emergency case.
Lorenzo grabbed his shoulder.
“If you hurt him—”
“Then move your hand and let me save him.”
Lorenzo released him instantly.
Hayes administered a carefully measured antihistamine.
Within minutes Leo’s breathing eased.
The rash stopped spreading.
But Hayes remained worried.
“We’re taking him to the hospital.”
Lorenzo shook his head.
“No.”
“He needs monitoring.”
“The hospital is where Sofia died.”
“That does not mean every doctor is compromised.”
“You were compromised.”
Hayes recoiled.
“What?”
“You signed the records saying my son had malabsorption.”
“Based on information I was given.”
“By Evelyn.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t verify it.”
Hayes looked ashamed.
“No.”
“Then forgive me if I don’t trust institutions tonight.”
I stepped between them.
“Leo needs equipment this house doesn’t have.”
Lorenzo looked at me.
“And if whoever harmed Sofia is waiting there?”
“Then bring your whole army.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You think this is funny?”
“No. I think your fear is becoming more dangerous than theirs.”
That silenced him.
Marco said quietly, “We can secure a private pediatric floor.”
Lorenzo stared at Leo.
Then nodded.
“Do it.”
Twenty-five minutes later, our convoy reached St. Catherine’s Medical Center.
The same hospital where Sofia had died.
Lorenzo’s men cleared an elevator.
Security surrounded the pediatric wing.
It was excessive.
It also made me feel better.
Leo underwent bloodwork, imaging and toxicology testing.
I was tested too.
My milk was analyzed.
Every sample was handled by two staff members while one of Lorenzo’s guards watched.
Hours passed.
I sat beside Leo’s hospital crib.
Lorenzo paced.
At some point, Bianca brought coffee.
Neither of us drank it.
“You should eat,” she told me.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need calories if you’re feeding him.”
The words made something tighten inside me.
Feeding him.
I had avoided naming what this situation meant.
Every time Leo latched onto me, my body remembered Lily.
The aching emptiness.
The nursery that never heard her cry.
I should have felt resentment.
Instead, I felt something more complicated.
Grief and comfort living in the same place.
Bianca sat beside me.
“I’m sorry about your daughter.”
I looked at her.
“Lorenzo told you?”
“He tells me almost nothing. But he told me that.”
“Why?”
“Probably because he doesn’t know how to talk about grief without talking about someone else’s.”
That sounded surprisingly accurate.
“You love your brother.”
“Unfortunately.”
I smiled faintly.
Then her expression became serious.
“He hasn’t been the same since Sofia.”
“Was he different before?”
“Less terrifying.”
“Hard to imagine.”
Bianca laughed quietly.
“Don’t let the expensive suits fool you. Lorenzo was always serious. But Sofia could make him laugh.”
She watched Leo.
“She changed this house.”
“What happened between Sofia and Vittorio?”
Bianca’s face tightened.
“They hated each other.”
“Why?”
“Sofia believed Vittorio had too much control over family business.”
“Was she right?”
“Yes.”
“Did Lorenzo agree?”
“Eventually.”
I glanced across the room.
Lorenzo stood by the window speaking quietly with Marco.
“What would Vittorio gain if Leo died?”
Bianca went still.
“Everything.”
I looked at her.
She lowered her voice.
“My father’s estate created a complicated succession structure. Lorenzo controls the family companies. But if Lorenzo dies, ownership passes to his direct descendants.”
“Leo.”
“Yes.”
“And if Leo dies?”
“Control passes temporarily to the senior surviving Rossi trustee.”
“Vittorio.”
“Exactly.”
Cold spread through me.
“But Lorenzo is alive.”
“For now.”
I looked again at Lorenzo.
The implication was terrifying.
Leo might not have been the final target.
He might only have been removing the next person in line.
A pediatric toxicologist entered.
Dr. Hayes followed.
Everyone stood.
The specialist introduced herself as Dr. Mira Patel.
“I have preliminary results.”
Lorenzo’s face tightened.
“Say it.”
“We detected traces of clonidine in Leo’s blood.”
Hayes swore softly.
“What is clonidine?” I asked.
“A medication used for several legitimate conditions,” Patel explained. “But Leo should not have it.”
“What would it do?”
“In excessive or repeated doses? Sleepiness, slowed heart rate, low blood pressure, poor feeding.”
Exactly what Leo had been experiencing.
Lorenzo’s face turned deadly.
“Could it kill him?”
“Yes.”
Bianca closed her eyes.
Dr. Patel continued.
“The level in his blood is low now, meaning his last exposure was probably many hours ago.”
“The bottle,” I said.
“Possibly.”
“What about the rash?”
“That may have been unrelated, or a reaction to something leaving his system. We’re still investigating.”
Lorenzo said, “Test the bottle.”
“We are.”
“And Sofia?”
Hayes stepped forward.
“The hospital located preserved blood samples from the night she died.”
Lorenzo stared at him.
“How long?”
“Lab can prioritize them.”
“Do it.”
Hayes nodded.
Then Patel looked at me.
“Ms. Bennett, your tests were clean. Your milk composition is normal.”
Relief passed through the room.
I hadn’t realized how afraid I’d been that something from me had hurt Leo.
Lorenzo seemed to notice.
“You’re fine,” he said.
I nodded.
“He can continue nursing,” Patel added, “provided Ms. Bennett is willing.”
Everyone looked at me.
I hated that.
Leo wasn’t a contract.
He wasn’t a service.
He was a baby.
But when I looked into his crib, his tiny mouth moved in sleep.
I thought of Lily.
I thought of the night I had begged the universe to let me trade anything—anything—to hear her cry once.
Now another child needed what my body still made for the daughter I had lost.
“I’ll continue,” I said.
Lorenzo’s shoulders dropped.
“But temporarily.”
He nodded.
“And on my terms.”
“Name them.”
“No guns near me while I’m feeding him.”
Bianca covered a laugh.
Marco looked at the ceiling.
Lorenzo almost smiled.
“Agreed.”
“Doctors make medical decisions.”
“Agreed.”
“And nobody treats me like property.”
The hint of a smile disappeared.
“I would never—”
“You ordered me to stay yesterday.”
His jaw tightened.
“Fair point.”
I continued.
“If I say I’m done, I’m done.”
Lorenzo nodded.
“Agreed.”
Dr. Patel excused herself.
Marco approached.
“We found the laundry truck.”
Lorenzo turned.
“Where?”
“Abandoned near the river.”
“Evelyn?”
“Gone.”
“Vittorio?”
“His home is empty.”
Lorenzo picked up his coat.
But Marco wasn’t finished.
“There’s something else.”
He held up a sealed evidence bag.
Inside was a small notebook.
“We found this beneath the truck seat.”
“What is it?”
“Evelyn’s handwriting.”
Marco opened a photograph on his phone.
Rows of dates.
Times.
Amounts.
Initials.
Beside many entries was one name.
LEO.
But farther down the page was another name.
LORENZO.
My stomach dropped.
The entries beside Lorenzo began two weeks from now.
May you like
Whatever Vittorio Rossi planned was not finished.
And according to Evelyn’s notebook, Lorenzo was next.
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