By the time the twelfth paramedic stepped away from my six-month-old son and stared at the Persian rug instead of his face, something inside me shattered.

Margaret screamed, dropping to her knees with her hands over her head.

I kicked the heavy sliding door the rest of the way open, stepping over the threshold like an avenging demon. Graves was crawling across the blood-slicked tile, clutching his shattered shoulder, reaching desperately for the fallen briefcase.

My boot came down on his outstretched wrist, crushing the bones against the floor with a sickening crunch.

Graves screamed, rolling onto his back, his silver hair soaked in blood. “Michael... wait... we can negotiate... the ports—”

I didn't answer. I knelt down, picked up the silver briefcase, and handed it directly to Emily, who had rushed into the room behind me.

“Check the seals,” I commanded.

Emily opened the case with trembling hands. She held the amber vial up to the flickering emergency light. “Intact. It’s Compound V-14. Unaltered.”

“Administer it,” I said.

She didn't waste a second. She drew the amber solution into a pediatric syringe, wiped Noah’s IV port with an alcohol pad from her pocket, and slowly, steadily pushed the antidote into his bloodstream.

For sixty seconds, the laboratory was dead silent, save for Graves’s ragged, whimpering breaths on the floor.

Then, the miracle happened.

The monitor’s rhythm began to smooth out. The chaotic, stuttering waveform shifted into a steady, clean sinus beat. The bluish tint around Noah’s lips receded, replaced by a soft, healthy flush of pink.

The ventilator hissed, and this time, Noah pushed against it, letting out a strong, furious, indignant cry that echoed through the vast concrete room.

It was the loudest, most beautiful sound I had ever heard in my life.

I turned back to Graves.

The billionaire lay on the floor, his face twisted in agony, staring up at me with wide, terrified eyes. “Michael... please. We were partners. Take everything. Just call an ambulance.”

I looked at Frank. “Clear the room. Take Margaret Collins to the holding cells at the docks. She has a lot of names to give us before sunrise.”

“Yes, Boss,” Frank said, dragging the sobbing nanny out into the corridor.

I leaned down over Julian Graves, resting my hands on my knees. “You took Arthur Vance’s life five years ago. Tonight, you tried to take mine, and you tried to murder a six-month-old child.”

“I’ll pay whatever you want—”

“There is no price on my son’s life, Julian,” I whispered.

I picked up the shattered ampoule of the neurotoxin that Margaret had brought from the estate, its amber residue still glistening against the jagged glass, and set it on the floor beside his cheek.

“You built this compound,” I said quietly. “Let’s see if your body can clear it without the cure.”

I turned my back on his screams, picked up Noah’s transport pod in one arm, and extended my other hand to Emily.