The rhythm of the NICU became their world.
Not the empire Alexander commanded from glass towers, not the fortress estate with its security protocols and underground bunkers. Just this: a sterile room filled with monitors and medical equipment, where a four-pound infant fought for breath and two people who'd started as captor and captive learned what it meant to be parents.
Alexander divided his existence into before and after Leo's nursing sessions. Before, he was CEO—on calls with lawyers finalizing the Phoenix Contract's global distribution, coordinating with Uncle Li on Eleanor's location, managing Drake Industries from a laptop balanced on his knee. His voice carried the same lethal authority it always had when he spoke to board members or security teams or the mercenaries closing in on his mother.
