Late night on the 28th.
An unmarked black train sped along the tracks from New York to Washington.
Steam billowing from the engine trailed a long white chain through the night. This locomotive was the Argyle Family private train, and its boiler pressure gauge was currently pushing into the red zone.
The fireman, bare-chested, was frantically shoveling coal into the furnace.
"Faster!"
Felix stood on the coal tender, his black formal coat flapping loudly in the wind as coal dust settled on his expensive collar.
"If we're even a minute late, I'll throw both of you into the furnace!"
"Sir, we're already at sixty miles an hour!"
The engineer shouted, his voice breaking in the wind.
"Any faster and we'll derail; the roadbed can't take it."
"Then let it derail!"
Felix gripped the handrail tightly, staring at the pitch-black tracks ahead.
"I want to see the dome of Capitol Hill before dawn."
From inside the carriage, Frost poked his head out and shouted.
"Boss, a telegram from Washington. Anna is still holding on! The doctor says... says they might have to use forceps."
Felix's heart constricted sharply.
Forceps.
In this era, that meant blood and death. It meant only one of them, mother or child, might survive.
He turned back into the carriage and slammed the door shut, cutting off the roar from outside.
He poured a glass of whiskey, his hands trembling slightly. Half the liquor spilled out.
"Damn it," he cursed under his breath.
He thought of Anna.
The woman who held her chin high at balls, the woman who helped him bribe congressmen in the halls of the Capitol, the woman who was willing to bear infamy for his ambitions—and the woman who had stood by his side as an equal, a partner in the shadows of power.
Anna had always been more than what the world saw. She deserved better than this agony.
If she died...
"No."
Felix crushed the glass in his hand. Shards pierced his palm, and blood dripped down, mixing with the whiskey.
"I won't allow her to die. Not even the King of Hell would dare take someone of mine."
Washington D.C., Georgetown.
A red-brick villa hidden deep within an oak forest. This was the private property of vice president Thomas Clark and the place where Anna was to give birth.
Heavy rain lashed against the windows.
In the second-floor bedroom, screams rang out one after another, like sharp knives piercing the night sky.
"Push! Miss, push harder!"
Two midwives, drenched in sweat, held down Anna's legs. The bedsheets were already soaked through with blood.
Anna's face was as white as paper, her hair matted to her face with sweat.
She bit down on a towel, her eyes beginning to lose focus.
"I can't..." she loosened her grip on the towel and whispered weakly, "Felix... where is he..."
Downstairs in the living room.
Thomas Clark paced back and forth, the firelight from the hearth reflecting his anxious face.
He held a cigar in his hand, chewed to bits, but he had forgotten to light it.
"That damn Felix," Clark cursed.
"Why isn't he here yet? What on earth is he doing!"
Sitting nearby was a doctor from the Argyle Charitable Foundation, also the best surgical expert from Umbrella Hospital, Doctor House. He was preparing surgical instruments—the last resort.
"Mr. Vice President," Doctor House said, wiping his glasses.
"Please stay calm. We've brought the latest 'ether anesthetic.' If a C-section becomes necessary, we are confident."
"A C-section?"
Clark stopped in his tracks, staring at the doctor in disbelief.
"Oh shit... you're joking, right? That's murder. Only dead people get C-sections!"
"That was before," Doctor House said calmly.
"Umbrella laboratories have improved suturing techniques and disinfectants. We've performed experiments on animals..."
"Fuck you! This is my daughter, not one of your experimental rabbits! Are you okay?" Clark roared.
Just then, the rapid sound of horse hooves came from outside.
Immediately after, the front door was violently burst open.
Felix rushed in.
He was soaked to the bone, still clutching a riding crop he'd grabbed from somewhere, his eyes as fierce as a lion entering its territory.
"How is she?"
Felix ignored Clark's rage and grabbed the doctor directly by the collar.
"She's still bleeding, and the cervix isn't fully dilated," the doctor gasped, choked by the grip.
"A decision must be made, Mr. Argyle. If we delay any longer, there could be a massive hemorrhage."
"Then save her!" Felix roared.
"If you don't bring both her and the child to me safe and sound, I'll tear your hospital down!"
"I was waiting for your authorization," the doctor broke free. "Give me the ether; I'm going up."
Felix let go, and the doctor rushed up the stairs carrying his case.
Clark looked at Felix, the fire of anger in his eyes subsiding slightly.
At least the man had come. And more than that—he cared. That was something.
On this wind-swept and rain-drenched night, he had rushed here from New York for Anna's sake.
"If she dies..." Clark said coldly, "our alliance is over."
"She won't die."
Felix walked to the fireplace, took off his soaked overcoat, and threw it on the floor.
"Anna Clark is the toughest woman in this world. She still has much left to do."
The screams upstairs suddenly stopped.
The ether had taken effect.
A deathly silence enveloped the entire house, with only the thunder outside still booming.
Felix and Clark stood facing each other.
One was an emperor of money, the other a vice president wielding power.
In this moment, they were just two men bound by their care for the woman upstairs, waiting for fate's judgment.
"Regarding the Pinkerton matter."
Clark suddenly changed the subject, seemingly wanting to use politics to distract from the fear.
"There's word from the Department of Justice that Grant wants to give Allan Pinkerton an official position."
"I know," Felix said, staring at the flames. "I'll handle it."
"What do you need me to do?"
"Perhaps I could use a memorandum from the Attorney General," Felix turned his head.
"A legal interpretation regarding 'restricting private detective agencies from participating in federal law enforcement.'"
"That will be difficult," Clark frowned. "The Constitution doesn't prohibit it."
"Then manufacture an interpretation," Felix's voice was icy.
"You are the President of the Senate; you should know how to play word games. As long as we have that document, Pinkerton's actions will be unconstitutional. Then, it will be much easier for me to deal with him in Pennsylvania."
"Fine," Clark nodded, "as long as Anna lives."
Suddenly, a cry came from upstairs.
The sound was very faint, like a kitten. But in the silent night, it was like a clap of thunder.
"Waa..."
Following that was the doctor's tired but excited shout.
"It's a birth! It's a boy!"
Felix and Clark both breathed a sigh of relief simultaneously.
Thomas slumped onto the sofa, the cigar in his hand falling to the floor.
Felix closed his eyes and tilted his head back.
He felt an unprecedented shiver run through his entire body.
It was an electric current. A new life had entered the world. A new responsibility had entered his.
Godfather.
It was a role he had not anticipated, but one he would not refuse.
"Anna has a son," Felix murmured to himself.
And he would protect them both, as he had always protected what mattered to him.
The doctor came down, removing his blood-stained mask.
"Congratulations to you both; mother and child are safe. Although Miss Anna lost quite a bit of blood, it has been stopped. She is very strong."
Felix didn't say a word.
He pulled a thick stack of bills from his pocket and, without even looking at the amount, stuffed them directly into the pocket of the doctor's white coat.
"This is a bonus; everyone gets one."
He stepped onto the stairs.
His footsteps were very light, as if afraid of waking something.
He pushed open the bedroom door.
The air was thick with the smell of ether and blood.
Anna lay on the bed, her face as pale as snow, looking like a broken doll.
But in the crook of her arm was a small, reddish bundle of flesh.
Felix walked over and knelt on one knee by the bed.
Anna opened her eyes slightly; the effects of the drug hadn't completely worn off, and her gaze was somewhat hazy.
"Felix..."
"I'm here."
Felix took her cold hand; his touch was steady now, carrying the weight of a promise.
"I'm here. You did very well, Anna. You're a warrior. The strongest I know."
"Look at him..." Anna moved her fingers with effort, "He's perfect. He's going to be strong like you. Like his father."
Felix looked down at the child.
A wrinkled face and tightly closed eyes, tiny hands clenched into fists.
The infant was grasping at the world with determination, eager to hold on to everything around him.
"He'll need a good man to guide him," Felix said quietly, understanding the weight of what Anna was about to ask. "To show him what it means to have honor, even in a dishonorable world."
Anna's eyes, though still hazy with ether, fixed on his with unmistakable intent.
"Will you be that man, Felix? Will you be his godfather?"
Felix looked at the child again, then back at Anna.
In that moment, he understood what she was asking for—not just a title, but a commitment. A pledge to stand between this child and the dangers of the world they inhabited.
"Yes," Felix said simply. "I will."
"Then give him a name," Anna whispered, a faint smile crossing her exhausted face. "A name worthy of the protection he'll receive."