511 "Her brother kicked his seven-month-pregnant sister down an entire staircase — then one recording on her phone turned their father’s laughter into evidence.

For three hours, Daniel paced the hallway of the surgical wing. The world outside was celebrating the downfall of the corrupt Vance dynasty, but to Daniel, none of it mattered. If Sarah and his son didn't walk out of this hospital, his entire world was meaningless.

He fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands, weeping silently. He had never felt so utterly powerless.

Finally, the operating room doors swung open.

Dr. Aris stepped out, her surgical mask hanging around her neck. She looked exhausted, her forehead covered in sweat.

Daniel stood up, his legs shaking. He couldn't even form the words to ask.

A soft smile broke across Dr. Aris’s face. "She's awake, Daniel. And she wants to see her husband."

"And... the baby?" Daniel gasped.

"He's small—four pounds, two ounces—and his lungs needed some immediate assistance, but he is stable. He’s in the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) right now, breathing on his own. He is a miracle."

Daniel let out a sob of pure, overwhelming joy. He rushed into the recovery room, where Sarah was lying, pale but radiant with a beautiful, tired smile on her face.

"We did it, Daniel," she whispered as he threw his arms around her, careful of her stitches, weeping into her shoulder. "Our boy is safe."

"I love you so much," Daniel murmured, kissing her face, her eyes, her lips. "You're the strongest woman I've ever known."

Later that evening, Daniel wheeled Sarah into the NICU. Through the glass of the incubator, they looked down at their son. He was tiny, surrounded by wires and monitors, but his little chest rose and fell with a steady, stubborn rhythm. He had a tuft of light brown hair, just like Daniel’s.

"What should we name him?" Daniel asked, his arm wrapped around Sarah’s shoulders.