CHAPTER FIVE: THE PRICE OF THE CROWN

The morning light usually brought clarity, but today it brought a storm.

Rage was standing by the nursery window, his silhouette dark against the rising sun, when the first alert hit every screen in the penthouse. Sabizina was still huddled in the rocking chair, wrapped in his scent, when the holographic display in the center of the room flickered to life.

It was a news broadcast. The headline in jagged, red letters read: THE STOLEN HEIRESS: IS RAGE VANE A SAVIOR OR A KIDNAPPER?

"Look," Sabizina whispered, her voice trembling.

On the screen, a grainy, high-angle video played. It was the footage from the cabin in San Verda. It had been edited to look like a violent abduction. It showed Rage’s Sentinels surrounding the house and Rage himself carrying a struggling, clearly pregnant Sabizina into the black VTOL.

Then came the "Face-Slap" moment: her father, Lorenzo Moretti, appeared on camera. He looked frail, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief.

"My daughter is high-risk," Lorenzo sobbed to the reporter. "She fled to Italy to escape his obsession, and he hunted her like an animal. He’s holding her captive for the heirs she carries. I am begging the authorities... bring my Sabizina home."

"He’s good," Rage hissed, his hand tightening around the back of the chair until the wood groaned. "He’s turned a private security extraction into a human rights violation."

"The board of directors is calling, sir," Marcus’s voice crackled over the intercom. "The stocks are dropping ten points every minute. They’re demanding you release a statement or step down as CEO."

Rage turned to Sabizina. His eyes were cold, but beneath the ice, there was a flicker of something she hadn’t seen before: desperation. "We have to go on air. Now. We do a live interview from the penthouse. We show the world you’re here by choice."

"By choice?" Sabizina laughed bitterly, standing up.

"Rage, I was brought here by force. If I lie on camera, I’m helping you build my own cage."

Rage crossed the room, his hands finding her shoulders. "If you don't lie, the police will storm this building. They’ll take you to a state-run medical facility. Your father’s men are already embedded there. You won’t be safe, and neither will Leo and Luna. I am the only shield you have left."

Sabizina opened her mouth to argue, but a sudden, searing pain shot through her lower abdomen. She gasped, her knees buckling.

"Sabi!" Rage caught her, his arms a familiar, iron grip.

"It’s... it’s just the stress," she wheezed, clutching her stomach. "It’s too soon. They aren't ready yetet.

One hour later.

The penthouse library had been converted into a temporary TV studio. Sabizina sat on a velvet sofa, dressed in a high-collared white silk gown that hid her trembling hands but emphasized the soft curve of her pregnancy. Rage sat beside her, his hand resting possessively on the back of the sofa, his thumb grazing her shoulder.

The red light on the camera blinked. They were live to thirty million people.

The interviewer, a sharp-featured woman named Sarah Vance, didn't hold back. "Miss Moretti, the world has seen the video. You look terrified in those frames. Are you being held here against your will by Mr. Vane?"

Sabizina felt a fresh wave of pain ripple through her. It was a dull, rhythmic ache that started in her back and radiated forward. Contractions. She was only twenty-eight weeks. If they came now, they wouldn't survive without the high-tech NICU Rage had built.

She looked into the camera. She saw her father’s face in her mind. Then she felt Rage’s hand tighten on her shoulder—a silent, grounding presence.

"The video was a misunderstanding," Sabizina said, her voice remarkably steady despite the sweat beginning to bead at her hairline. "I fled to Italy because I was overwhelmed. I didn't realize the danger my family’s enemies posed to my children. Rage didn't kidnap me. He rescued me."

"And your father?" Sarah asked. "He says you’re mentally unstable."

"My father," Sabizina said, a cold edge entering her voice, "is the reason I needed rescuing. He is under investigation for crimes that would turn your stomach. He isn't worried about my health; he’s worried about his leverage."

Rage stepped in, his voice a deep, authoritative rumble. "The Vane family is private. But we will not allow a criminal to use the media to threaten our peace. This interview is over."

"One more question—"

"I said," Rage growled, his Alpha dominance leaking through the screen, "it’s over."

The red light went out.

The second the camera was dead, Sabizina let out a choked cry and slumped against Rage. "Rage... something’s wrong. It’s not stopping."

"Marcus! Get the medical team in here now!" Rage roared, his face turning pale.

He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, sprinting toward the medical suite they had bypassed earlier. He laid her on the sterile white bed, his hands shaking as he brushed the hair from her damp forehead.

"You're okay, Sabi. Look at me. Don't look at the monitors, look at me."

The head medic, Dr. Aris, rushed in, checking the holographic displays. "Her heart rate is spiking. The stress has triggered Pre-eclampsia. We need to stabilize her blood pressure immediately or she’ll go into a seizure."

"Save them," Sabizina gasped, grabbing Rage’s hand so hard her knuckles turned white. "If you have to choose... save the babies."

"I am not choosing!" Rage roared at the doctor. "Use the Golden Blood protocol. Use whatever you have to, but if I lose her, I’ll pull the plug on this entire floor!"

"Sir, the Golden Blood protocol requires a direct transfusion from a compatible Alpha donor to stabilize the placental barrier," Dr. Aris said, his voice frantic. "It's never been done on a human subject."

"I am the donor," Rage snapped, already tearing off his cashmere sweater and baring his arm. "Start the line."

Sabizina watched through a haze of pain as they hooked a tube from Rage’s arm directly into hers. She saw the blood—his blood—traveling through the clear plastic.

Rage leaned over her, his eyes burning with a raw, terrifying love. "You aren't leaving me, Sabizina. We haven't even had the second wedding yet. You don't get to escape me through a hospital bed."

"Rage..." she whispered, her vision beginning to blur.

"Stay with me," he commanded, his voice a tether to the world. "Fight, Sabi. For Leo. For Luna. For me."

As his blood entered her system, a strange, cooling sensation washed over her. The monitors, which had been screaming in high-pitched alarms, began to slow. The rhythmic thumping of the twins' heartbeats—fast, frantic—gradually settled into a steady, healthy pace.

The "Golden Blood" connection was working.

For the first time, they were truly bound. Not by a contract, not by a ring, but by the very essence of life.

Two hours later.

The medical suite was quiet. Sabizina was sleeping, her face pale but peaceful. Rage was still sitting in the chair beside her, his arm bandaged where the needle had been. He looked exhausted, but his eyes never left her.

Marcus stepped into the room, moving quietly. "The interview worked, Boss. Public opinion is shifting. The police have stood down, and the Board is quiet for now. But we have a problem."

"What now?" Rage asked, his voice a ghostly rasp.

"Lorenzo Moretti. He saw the medical equipment on the broadcast before we cut the feed. He knows she’s in a fragile state. He’s stopped playing the 'worried father' and has gone underground. Our informants say he’s hired a 'Cleaner' to finish the job."

Rage looked at Sabizina, then at his bandaged arm. He felt a new kind of power humming in his veins—a connection to her that was primal.

"Let him come," Rage said, his voice dropping into a tone that promised a slow, cold death to anyone who crossed the threshold. "He’s been fighting a CEO. Now, he’s going to fight a man with nothing left to lose but his soul."

Rage reached out and gently touched Sabizina’s handd.

"The world thinks I’m a monster, Sabi," he whispered. "But for you, I’ll become the devil himself."