Chapter 1 - The Maid Who Fed the Baby Everyone Had Given Up On“You know her name?”
Dr. Gallagher looked at Lorenzo.
“Of course. She’s one of the temporary live-in staff.”
Lorenzo's eyes returned to Hunter.
“How long?”
“Three weeks,” Hunter answered.
“Three weeks,” Lorenzo repeated.
“Yes.”
“And you thought entering my son's nursery after being explicitly forbidden was a good idea?”
Hunter looked down at Leo.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because nobody else was listening to him.”
The room went silent.
Lorenzo looked at his son.
Leo was still nursing.
His tiny fingers had curled into the fabric of Hunter's uniform.
The sight seemed to break something inside the billionaire.
For twelve days, his son had cried.
Twelve days of specialists.
Twelve days of tests.
Twelve days of bottles left untouched.
Twelve days of watching the newborn lose weight.
And now, a maid who had been in his house less than a month was holding the child as though she'd known exactly what he needed.
Dr. Gallagher checked the monitor again.
“His oxygen is ninety-eight.”
Lorenzo stared.
“What was it before?”
“Eighty-nine.”
A muscle jumped in Lorenzo's jaw.
“And his pulse?”
“One hundred forty.”
“Before?”
“One hundred sixteen.”
Hunter looked at the baby.
“He was hungry.”
Gallagher nodded.
“Clearly.”
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed.
“How?”
Hunter hesitated.
“He was rooting.”
“That means what?”
“He was searching for food.”
“I know what rooting is.”
“Then you knew.”
Lorenzo went quiet.
Hunter realized the billionaire had not slept.
His white shirt was wrinkled.
There were dark circles beneath his eyes.
He looked like a father who had spent nearly two weeks trying to bargain with a universe that didn't care about money.
Dr. Gallagher examined Leo again.
“Ms. Hayes, how much milk are you producing?”
“Not much.”
“Why?”
Hunter swallowed.
“Because my daughter died.”
The room changed.
Lorenzo looked at her sharply.
Hunter hated the way everyone always became careful after she said it.
As though grief were contagious.
“My daughter was born three weeks ago,” she said. “I was thirty-eight weeks.”
Gallagher's expression softened.
“What happened?”
“Fall.”
She didn't elaborate.
She didn't say Travis's name.
Not here.
Not yet.
The baby continued nursing.
Hunter whispered,
“He's getting tired.”
Gallagher nodded.
“We should let him finish.”
Lorenzo remained near the door.
Watching.
Not the baby.
Hunter.
There was something about her expression.
She was devastated.
And yet she was holding his child with extraordinary tenderness.
After several minutes, Leo stopped sucking.
His eyes closed.
Hunter gently lifted him upright and patted his back.
The baby made a tiny sound.
A burp.
Dr. Gallagher stared at the monitor.
“That's the first normal feeding I've seen from him since birth.”
Lorenzo crossed the room.
“Give him to me.”
Hunter hesitated.
Then carefully transferred the baby into his arms.
Lorenzo held his son awkwardly.
Like a man who could negotiate billion-dollar contracts but wasn't sure how much pressure was safe for a newborn.
Leo slept.
Lorenzo looked at him.
Then at Hunter.
“What did you give him?”
“My milk.”
“That isn't supposed to be possible.”
“Apparently it is.”
Gallagher cleared his throat.
“There may be an important factor we're missing.”
Lorenzo looked at him.
“What?”
“Leo's mother died shortly after delivery. The doctors have tried multiple formulas and screened donor milk. But his feeding response is different with human milk from someone whose composition may resemble his mother's.”
Lorenzo's face tightened.
“You're saying this could be biological.”
“Possibly.”
Hunter stared at Leo.
“His mother…”
She stopped.
She hadn't met the woman.
She hadn't known her.
But somehow she felt as though she were helping finish something that mother had started.
Lorenzo looked at Hunter.
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
“My office.”
“I have work.”
“You don't anymore.”
Hunter stared.
“What?”
“I'll decide what happens to your employment.”
“That sounds threatening.”
“It wasn't.”
“It sounded threatening.”
For the first time, Dr. Gallagher smiled.
Lorenzo ignored him.
In the office, Lorenzo closed the door.
Hunter remained standing.
He crossed the room.
“I want the truth.”
“You have it.”
“Why did you know exactly what to do?”
Hunter looked at him.
“Because I had a daughter.”
“Had.”
“Yes.”
He noticed her hand shaking.
“What was her name?”
“Lily.”
The name seemed to strike something in her.
“She was beautiful.”
Lorenzo lowered his gaze.
“My son was born eight weeks early.”
“I know.”
“You shouldn't.”
“The housekeeper talks.”
He almost smiled.
“She has a lot to say.”
Hunter nodded.
“You might want to listen more.”
Silence.
Then Lorenzo said,
“Stay.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“Don't leave tonight.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Good.”
He walked to the window.
“And Hunter?”
She stopped.
“If anyone asks you to leave the nursery again, don't.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because my son was starving.”
May you like
His eyes hardened.
“And someone made sure nobody noticed.”
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