The cathedral doors slammed open three seconds before Arthur Romano was supposed to say, “I do.” Every head turned

"Call an ambulance! NOW!"

Arthur’s roar shattered the stunned silence of the cathedral like a sledgehammer hitting glass.

He didn't care about the two hundred elite guests staring in horror. He didn't care about Malcolm Croft’s darkening face or Vivien’s sharp gasp of rage. All Arthur knew was that the woman he loved was unconscious in his arms, her body ice-cold, her skin dangerously pale, and a dark, terrifying stain of blood was slowly spreading through the wet burgundy fabric of her dress.

"Chloe... Chloe, look at me," Arthur pleaded, his voice cracking with a raw, desperate fear his men had never heard from him before. He scooped her up into his arms, pulling her heavy, wet body tightly against his chest as he stood up.

Her head rolled weakly against his shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open just a crack, her breath coming in shallow, painful gasps. "Arthur..."

"I'm here, baby. I've got you," he whispered furiously, kissing her wet forehead, her rain-soaked hair. "You're safe. I'm taking you to a hospital."

"The... the wine," she choked out, her small, trembling hand making a weak attempt to reach toward the altar. "Don't... don't let them..."

Arthur snapped his head toward the altar.

Leo was already standing between the silver ceremonial chalice and Malcolm Croft. Malcolm’s hand was hovering near his inner jacket pocket, his eyes darting toward the exits.

"Leo," Arthur said, his voice dropping into a register so cold, so lethal, that the air in the cathedral seemed to drop ten degrees. "Secure the chalice. Lock the doors. Nobody leaves this building."

"Arthur, this is insane!" Vivien shrieked, taking a furious step down the altar stairs, her white bridal gown trailing behind her. "She's a crazy waitress! She barged into our wedding to make a scene! Look at her—she's probably carrying some street rat's kid!"

Arthur turned his head slowly toward Vivien. The look in his eyes made the platinum-blonde heiress instantly freeze in her tracks, a wave of genuine fear washing over her face.

"If she dies," Arthur said, his voice terrifyingly calm, "I will personally execute every person who carries the Croft name in this city. Starting with you."

Vivien gasped, taking a step back behind her father.

"Leo!" Arthur shouted, gathering Chloe closer as she let out a soft groan of pain. "Get the SUV around front! Now!"

"Already done, boss!" Leo called out, drawing his weapon and signaling four Romano soldiers. "Clear a path!"

Arthur didn't wait. He carried Chloe down the central aisle of the cathedral, walking right past the frozen high-society guests, his eyes locked entirely on the woman in his arms. The blood on her dress was staining his white silk shirt, warm and terrifying.

As he burst through the heavy cathedral doors into the pouring rain, his private armored SUV pulled up to the curb, tires screeching against the wet pavement.

Arthur slid into the back seat, holding Chloe across his lap, resting her head against his chest, cradling her swollen belly with trembling hands.

"Drive!" Arthur yelled to his chauffeur. "Mercy Hospital! Drive like you want to keep your head!"

The SUV roared away into the storm, leaving the cathedral in absolute chaos behind them.

In the back seat, Arthur pressed his hand against the small of Chloe’s back, feeling her body shudder with every contraction.

"Hang on, Chloe," he begged, tears finally burning his eyes as he looked down at her pale, exquisite face. "Please, God, hang on. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I left you..."

Chloe’s hand reached up weakly, her fingers brushing against his wet cheek. "It's... it's a boy, Arthur," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain hammering the roof. "Your... your son..."

Arthur froze. His heart stopped beating for three full seconds.

His son.

He looked down at the rounded curve of her stomach, feeling a sudden, strong kick press against his palm from inside her dress.

A choked sob escaped Arthur’s throat. He bowed his head, pressing his forehead against hers, his tears mingling with the rain on her skin. "A son... Jesus, Chloe... you carried my son..."

"Vivien... she was going to poison you," Chloe gasped, her grip on his lapel tightening as another wave of pain hit her. "The wine... she told me... she was going to kill you..."

The pieces of the puzzle slammed together in Arthur’s mind with devastating clarity. The Crofts hadn't wanted an alliance. They had wanted his empire. They had planned to use the marriage to legally secure his assets, murder him during the ceremony, and leave Vivien as the sole heir to the Romano territory. And Chloe had run through a September hurricane, risking her life and their child's life, just to save him.