I left my ex-wife two years ago thinking she moved away to forget me. Today, my new girlfriend watched in shock as I recognized the dying woman rushed into the ICU on a gurney—holding an oxygen mask over her face while carrying my nine-month unborn child."

The news sent a wave of absolute fury through Adrian’s veins. Someone had tried to murder his ex-wife and his unborn child. He immediately arranged for private security personnel from his firm to guard the doors of both the NICU and Elena's intensive care room on the fourth floor.

At 2:00 AM, the hospital corridors were dark, illuminated only by floor-level safety lights. Adrian sat in a armchair beside Elena’s bed. She lay motionless under a thick duvet, a heart monitor drawing steady, rhythmic lines on the wall monitor beside her. Her dark wavy hair was brushed neatly over her shoulders, her pale face peaceful in sleep.

Suddenly, the brass door handle turned softly.

A figure clad in a dark nurse’s coat and surgical mask slipped quietly into the room, carrying a small clear syringe in their gloved hand. The figure moved toward the IV drip line attached to Elena's arm.

"Looking for this?" Adrian’s deep, lethal voice echoed from the shadowed corner of the room.

The intruder gasped, freezing instantly.

Adrian stood up slowly from his chair, his tall frame blocking the soft light from the window. He moved with swift, predatory grace, grabbing the intruder’s wrist before they could inject the fluid into the IV tube. He twisted the person's arm behind their back, forcing them down onto their knees with a sickening pop of the shoulder joint.

The intruder cried out in pain, dropping the syringe onto the floor.