The silence in Aaliyah's hospital room was unbearable. Machines hummed softly beside her bed, each beep too slow, too fragile, too close to stopping. Damiano sat beside her, fingers trembling as he held her hand, afraid to let go, afraid to blink. She still wasn't responding. Her skin was pale, her breathing shallow, as if the smallest push could send her over the edge.
What's happening to Aaliyah?
Even the doctors didn't know. They whispered outside the room, exchanging tense glances, words like "internal collapse", "system instability", and "post-labor shock" floating through the door. None of it made sense. None of it felt real. She was supposed to be recovering. She was supposed to wake up.
But she wasn't.
And Damiano was breaking.
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to her hand.
Damiano: "Please… don't leave me. Don't leave our daughter. I can't do this without you."
His voice cracked so hard it tore through the hallway—where Winona and Dylan stood guard like soldiers.
Meanwhile — Estrella
Down the hall, Estrella lay in her incubator, her tiny chest rising with the smallest, weakest breaths. Tubes surrounded her, monitors blinked erratically, and every few minutes a nurse rushed in to adjust something.
Her condition had changed again.
And not in a good way.
Her oxygen had dipped dangerously low.
Her heart rate fluttered like it couldn't decide if it wanted to keep fighting.
Her body was still too small, too early, too fragile.
The neonatologist shook his head.
Doctor: "We're doing everything we can. But she's still highly unstable."
Dylan clenched his jaw, tears burning in his eyes.
Dylan: "She's a fighter. Just like her mother."
A Question No One Saw Coming
That afternoon, a team of armed security officers appeared at the hospital entrance—tall, silent, professionally trained. They flashed badges no one expected, spoke to no journalists, ignored all paparazzi.
The hospital director was stunned.
Director: "Who sent you?"
The head of the security team simply answered:
Security Chief: "We have orders to protect Aaliyah, Estrella, and the immediate family at all costs."
Orders… from someone powerful.
But no name.
No explanation.
No one could trace them.
Winona narrowed her eyes—protective, suspicious, and angry.
Winona: "Someone inside this country is done watching my daughter suffer."
And she wasn't wrong.
The Global Impact
As the news of Aaliyah's condition leaked internationally—despite the hospital's attempts to hide it—the world erupted.
Millions of people flooded social media.
#PrayForAaliyah
#SaveBabyEstrella
#ProtectTheFamily
#StandWithDamiano
Italy, the USA, Latin America, Europe—everyone held their breath.
News channels played hour-long specials.
Fans gathered outside hospitals in two different countries.
Artists, actors, and global icons began posting prayers, love, and anger against the media harassment that brought her here.
The world wasn't divided anymore.
They were united—terrified.
Damiano's Breaking Point
Inside the room, Damiano's fear turned into something darker, heavier—something that suffocated him.
He stared at Aaliyah's still body.
Then he looked toward the hallway where the mystery security team stood.
Damiano: "If I lose her… if I lose Estrella… I walk away from everything. The label. The industry. Italy. All of it."
His voice wasn't shaky this time.
It was cold. Final. Unnegotiable.
Dylan and Winona turned toward him, stunned.
Damiano: "I don't care about fame. I don't care about music. I care about them. And if this world keeps destroying them—then I'm done with it."
He looked at Aaliyah again. For a moment, she almost seemed to move—but it was only the machines adjusting.
And in that devastating stillness, Damiano made the biggest decision of his life:
Damiano: "From now on… my only job is to keep them alive."