Chapter 1 - Six Hours of ScreamingFor six straight hours, Dominic Moretti’s newborn son screamed.
Not cried.
Screamed.
The kind of desperate, exhausted scream that makes strangers look away because they cannot bear to hear it anymore.
But nobody at Bellavita looked away.
The restaurant had been nearly silent for the last twenty minutes.
Every conversation had died.
Every fork had stopped halfway to someone’s mouth.
Even the piano player in the corner had quietly lifted his hands from the keys.
Because everyone in Bellavita knew who sat at Table Twelve.
Dominic Moretti.
Chicago knew his name.
Politicians avoided saying it.
Businessmen lowered their voices when discussing him.
And men who worked for him never asked questions twice.
Tonight, however, Dominic Moretti looked helpless.
His newborn son lay inside a cream-colored bassinet beside his table, red-faced and exhausted.
His tiny fists opened and closed.
His legs pulled tightly toward his stomach.
Then another scream tore through the restaurant.
Dominic closed his eyes.
“Make it stop.”
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
Four men immediately moved.
They were his bodyguards, and every one of them looked terrified.
One ran toward the kitchen.
Another called someone.
A third began searching through a diaper bag.
Then the fourth returned carrying a bottle.
I stopped walking.
Cow’s milk.
For a newborn.
I stared at the bottle.
Then at the baby.
Then at Dominic.
My manager suddenly appeared beside me and grabbed my wrist.
“Don't.”
I looked at him.
“That baby needs help.”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand enough.”
He lowered his voice.
“That’s Dominic Moretti.”
“I know.”
And for a moment, I remembered another baby.
Another hospital room.
Another scream.
My son Leo.
He had been born with a heart that never had a chance.
I had spent months studying nursing because I wanted to help children like him.
Instead, I learned what it felt like to watch one disappear beneath a white hospital sheet.
After Leo died, I walked away from nursing school.
I couldn't step inside a hospital without hearing his last heartbeat.
So I became a waitress.
Plates were easier than patients.
Until tonight.
Because when that baby screamed again, something inside me broke.
I pulled my wrist free.
And walked toward Dominic Moretti.
One of his bodyguards stepped directly into my path.
“Back to work.”
I looked at the bassinet.
“You're frightening him.”
The man's jaw tightened.
His hand moved beneath his jacket.
I didn't move.
Then Dominic spoke.
“Let her through.”
The bodyguard stepped aside.
I walked into the most dangerous man's circle in Chicago.
And when I finally looked down at his son, I realized something nobody else had noticed.
The baby wasn't simply crying.
He was fighting to breathe.
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And the worst part?
Someone in that restaurant already knew.
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