Chapter 1 - “You’re Hurting Your Own Baby”Six hours of screaming had pushed Dominic Moretti to the edge.
Everyone inside Bellavita knew it.
Nobody went near his table.
Not the manager.
Not the waiters.
Not even the four enormous men surrounding his booth.
Dominic Moretti was the kind of man people lowered their voices around. His name traveled through Chicago in whispers, usually followed by words like dangerous, ruthless, and untouchable.
But that night, none of that mattered.
Because his newborn son wouldn't stop crying.
The baby had been screaming for nearly six hours.
His face was red.
His tiny fists were clenched.
His legs pulled toward his stomach.
Every few seconds, his back arched and another desperate cry tore through the restaurant.
"Make it stop," Dominic said.
He didn't shout.
He didn't have to.
The manager looked ready to faint.
One bodyguard held a bottle.
Another rocked the bassinet.
A third stood frozen beside the table.
The fourth had returned from the kitchen carrying a glass of cow's milk.
I stared at it.
"You can't give a newborn that."
The man looked at me.
"Why?"
I nearly laughed.
Then the baby screamed again.
Something inside my chest twisted.
Four years disappeared.
I was back in a hospital room.
My son Leo was tiny beneath white sheets.
Machines surrounded him.
I remembered holding his hand while the monitor counted every fragile heartbeat.
I remembered promising him I would never let go.
Then the monitor went silent.
After Leo died, I quit nursing school.
Hospitals became places I couldn't enter without remembering everything.
So I found work at Bellavita.
Carry plates.
Smile.
Take orders.
Go home.
Don't remember.
That had been my life for two years.
Until tonight.
The baby screamed again.
I put my tray down.
My manager grabbed my wrist.
"Don't."
"He needs help."
"That's Dominic Moretti."
"I know."
"We are invisible tonight."
I looked at the baby.
"No."
I pulled free.
"Not anymore."
I walked toward Dominic's table.
Forty feet.
It felt like forty miles.
One bodyguard stepped in front of me.
"That's far enough, sweetheart."
"The baby needs help."
"Go back to work."
"You're all frightening him."
His jaw tightened.
Then Dominic spoke.
"Let her through."
The bodyguard moved.
I approached the bassinet.
Up close, the baby looked even smaller.
His dark hair was damp with sweat.
His little stomach was tight.
His legs were drawn up.
I looked at Dominic.
"How old is he?"
"Three weeks."
"Has he eaten?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Enough."
"When was his last wet diaper?"
Dominic stared.
"I don't know."
I sighed.
"That's important."
His expression hardened.
"Why?"
"Because you're trying to solve a baby's problem like it's a business problem."
Nobody moved.
Dominic leaned forward.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you need to stop intimidating him."
His eyes narrowed.
"You think he's intimidated?"
I pointed at the bodyguards.
"Four huge men standing over him, loud voices, bright lights, people constantly picking him up and putting him down."
Dominic glanced at his men.
They looked offended.
I lowered my voice.
"And if he's having severe gas or colic, all that stimulation makes it worse."
"Colic?"
"Possibly."
Dominic frowned.
"What is that?"
"A condition. Not a person."
His bodyguards exchanged confused looks.
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Then the baby cried again.
I looked at Dominic.
"I need to hold him."
Silence.
One of the bodyguards actually inhaled sharply.
Dominic stood.
"If you drop him—"
"I won't."
"If you hurt him—"
"You'll kill me. I understand."
His eyes flashed.
But I stepped closer.
"You can threaten me later. Right now your son needs you to trust someone."
Something changed in his face.
Not weakness.
Fear.
Pure fear.
"Do it."
I lifted the baby carefully.
The instant his warm body settled against my arm, grief punched through me.
Leo.
For one terrible second, I couldn't breathe.
I swallowed it.
"Hey, little one."
The baby whimpered.
"I've got you."
I positioned him safely across my forearm and gently supported his head.
Then I rubbed his back.
Slow circles.
No bouncing.
No noise.
No panic.
The crying continued.
But softer.
"His stomach is tight," I whispered.
Dominic watched every movement.
"Can you fix him?"
"I can try."
"What does he need?"
"Quiet."
Dominic immediately turned.
"Everyone out."
The restaurant emptied around us.
The music stopped.
The kitchen fell silent.
Only rain remained against the windows.
I continued rubbing the baby's back.
Then—
A tiny burp escaped.
The baby stopped crying.
Dominic froze.
His men froze.
I smiled.
"There."
Dominic stared at his son.
"That's it?"
"That's part of it."
The baby sighed.
His body relaxed.
Dominic sat down slowly.
For the first time since I had seen him, he looked less like Chicago's most feared man and more like a terrified young father.
"What's your name?"
"Emma."
"Emma what?"
"Emma Carter."
He nodded.
Then his son suddenly went completely silent.
Not peaceful.
Silent.
The baby's lips turned pale.
His tiny body went limp.
My smile disappeared.
"Dominic."
He stood instantly.
"What?"
I checked the baby's breathing.
It was shallow.
Too shallow.
"Call an ambulance."
One bodyguard reached for his phone.
Dominic looked at me.
"Is he dying?"
"I don't know."
For the first time in six hours, Dominic's voice broke.
"Don't let him die."
I looked down at the baby.
I remembered Leo.
The promise I had failed to keep.
Then I looked at Dominic.
"I won't stop fighting."
May you like
Sirens appeared in the distance.
And neither of us knew that the baby's sudden silence was only the beginning of a much larger nightmare.
Related Stories
