The pediatric procedure room was far too quiet, save for the rhythmic beep of a vitals monitor and the soft humming of the fluorescent lights overhead.

By 3:00 AM, the hospital had settled into a eerie twilight quiet.

Chloe was sleeping soundly on a small cot in a private recovery room on the pediatric floor, her thumb tucked lightly into her mouth, a stuffed bear squeezed against her chest. I sat in a chair beside her, my back straight, my eyes glued to the locked wooden door.

The donation had gone smoothly. Chloe had been brave, barely flinching when the needle went in, proud that her "special blood" was helping someone. I had stroked her hair the entire time, suppressing the urge to throw her over my shoulder and run for the exit.

A soft knock echoed against the door frame.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I stood up instantly, my hand reaching into my purse for the small canister of pepper spray I kept attached to my keys.

The door opened slowly. It wasn't Julian.

It was Marcus—David’s personal bodyguard and right-hand man.

Eight years hadn't changed Marcus much. He was still built like a brick wall, wearing a sharp black suit that barely concealed the shoulder holster beneath his jacket. But where he used to look imposing and ruthless, tonight his face was pale, lined with dark circles and exhaustion.

He stepped into the room, closed the door quietly behind him, and looked at me. His eyes moved from my face down to the sleeping little girl on the cot.

"Natasha," Marcus said, his voice a low, rough rumble. "I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me when I saw your name on the visitor registry."

"Marcus," I said, keeping my body firmly positioned between him and Chloe. "You shouldn't be on this floor."

Marcus didn't take another step forward. He kept his hands visible, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of profound respect. "I just came to verify it myself. Dr. Winters just delivered the unit to the surgical suite. They’re running the transfusion right now. The chief surgeon says it’s working. David’s blood pressure is stabilizing."

I let out a long, shaky breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Good. He’s alive. Now leave us alone."

Marcus looked back at Chloe. His stoic posture softened, a look of utter astonishment washing over his features. "Eight years, Natasha. You disappeared without a trace. David searched for you for eighteen months. He almost burnt down half of North Chicago looking for the man he thought took you."

"Nobody took me," I hissed softly. "I left. I left because I woke up one morning and realized that if I stayed, I would either end up in a pine box or behind bars. And then I found out I was pregnant."

Marcus’s eyes widened slightly, though he didn't look entirely surprised. He stared at Chloe’s face—her subtle, refined jawline, her dark lashes, the distinct arch of her eyebrows.

"She has his face," Marcus whispered. "And his blood."

"She is a schoolgirl from Wisconsin," I said, stepping closer to Marcus, my voice sharp as a razor. "She has nothing to do with the Carter family. She doesn't know who David is, and she never will. As soon as she wakes up, we are leaving."

"You can't," Marcus warned softly. "Julian knows."

My blood ran cold. "What?"

"Julian saw the compatibility report twenty minutes ago," Marcus revealed, his expression turning deadly serious. "He noticed the genetic markers immediately. He’s already asking questions. He knows the donor is an eight-year-old girl named Chloe Simmons, living under the custody of a woman named Natasha. He’s currently downstairs putting together the timeline."

"Marcus, you have to help us," I pleaded, grabbing the lapel of his jacket. "You owed David your life. If Julian gets his hands on her—"

"Julian thinks David is going to die or be incapacitated," Marcus interrupted. "If David dies, Julian becomes the head of the empire. But an heir—a legitimate child of David Carter—complicates everything. Julian won't let a child threaten his claim to the throne."

"Then let us go!" I begged. "We’ll disappear again! We’ll change our names!"