The air in the library was heavy, smelling of old leather, fine bourbon, and the quiet despair of a man who had long since surrendered to his own cage.

Claire didn't immediately reach for the towel. Instead, she let the silence stretch, watching the way Sebastian Lombardi’s chest heaved. The ruthless predator who controlled Chicago’s underworld was currently gasping like a drowning man pulling his first breath of air.

"I won't do it again," Claire said, her voice steady, though her heart hammered against her ribs. "Not until we establish the terms."

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. The vulnerability vanished, replaced by the cold, calculating stare of a mob boss. "You’re in my house, Miss Bennett. You don't set terms."

"I do when I'm the only person in twenty years who can make your foot move," Claire countered. She crossed her arms, ignoring the dangerous glint in his eye. "My son, Leo. He needs a specialized pulmonary surgery. The hospital won't schedule it because my insurance is garbage and my bank account is empty. Ten thousand was the down payment to keep him on the list. I need the full eighty thousand."

Sebastian buttoned his shirt, his movements slow and deliberate. "You have leverage, and you're using it. It's risky to extort a Lombardi."

"It's not extortion. It's a medical fee for a miracle," she replied flatly. "And I want protection. If I’m coming here every night to fix the king of Chicago, your enemies will eventually notice me. I won't have my boy put in the crossfire."

Sebastian stared at her for a long time. Then, a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Gabriel!" he barked.

The heavy doors opened instantly. Gabriel stood there, eyes scanning for threats.

"Transfer eighty grand to Miss Bennett's account," Sebastian ordered. "And put a detail on her son's hospital room. Two men, round the clock."