544 The Mafia Boss Watched His Baby Slowly Die — Until A Poor Nurse Found The Truth Hidden Inside The Hospital

"They’re using the legal system to do what bullets couldn't," Weston said, his voice terrifyingly calm as he walked toward the tactical map terminal on the wall. "If the state takes custody of Owen, Moretti’s people inside the child welfare system will make sure he doesn't survive his first night in a public ward."

"We can't let them step foot in this room," Priya said, her medical protective instincts flaring up again. "Moving Owen now would be fatal. He needs seventy-two hours of uninterrupted antibiotic and nutritional therapy."

"They won't get near him," Weston swore. He turned to Viktor over the comms. "Activate Protocol Delta. Cut all external feeds to the city authorities, and leak the audio recordings of Deputy Commissioner Hayes taking payments from Moretti to the Federal District Attorney."

"Understood, Boss," Viktor replied. "That will tie up the federal raid, but it gives us less than four hours before Moretti realizes his political cover is blown and makes a final, desperate strike himself."

Weston turned to Priya. "I need to leave the estate to finish this."

Priya felt a sudden wave of panic. "Weston, no. Going to Moretti’s stronghold is a trap!"

"It’s only a trap if you don't know it’s coming," Weston said softly. He stepped close to her, putting his hands on her arms. "I have to eliminate the threat to my son once and for all. If I stay here, this fortress becomes a siege, and eventually, a breach will happen. I fight on my terms."

"Then promise me you’ll come back," Priya said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Owen needs his father. He’s already lost his mother. Don't leave him alone."

Weston looked down at her, his dark eyes filled with an intensity that made her breath stop. He leaned down and pressed a long, gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering there for several seconds.

"I will come back to both of you," Weston whispered against her skin. "I promise."

He pulled away, pulled a heavy tactical vest over his chest, and checked his secondary sidearm. He turned to his head of internal house security, a stern, older woman named Martha who was a retired elite military medic.

"Martha, you answer to Nurse Osei," Weston commanded. "If anyone breaches the outer perimeter, seal the subterranean panic vault. Nobody opens it except me or Priya."

"Understood, Mr. Kade," Martha nodded, drawing a silenced pistol from her side holster.

Weston took one last look at his sleeping son, then at Priya, and vanished out the heavy steel doors into the night.

Hours dragged by like slow torture. Priya barely left Owen’s side. She re-checked his IV lines, monitored his kidney output, and wiped his tiny brow. Outside, the sky turned to a deep pitch black as a summer thunderstorm rolled over Chicago, lighting up the security monitors with flashes of blue lightning.

At 3:30 AM, the estate’s power suddenly flickered and died.

The emergency red backup generators hummed to life instantly, filling the room with a eerie crimson glow. On the master security terminal, camera feeds across the northern perimeter went dark one by one.

"They're inside the grounds," Martha said, her voice grim as she brought up the motion tracking grid. "Sensors show at least a dozen armed men bypassing the main gate."

Priya’s heart slammed against her ribs. Moretti hadn't waited for Weston to reach his safehouse. The attack on the West Loop had been a feint to draw Weston away—Moretti was attacking the estate directly.