John Kavanagh Sr. was a man whose name alone could silence a courtroom. The finest barrister Ballylaggin had ever seen—and perhaps all of Cork—he was sharp, ruthless, and impossible to rattle in court.

Today, though, he was in a darker mood.

In the glass boardroom of his Cork law firm, a meeting about a high- homicide profile trial had turned into a massacre of bad ideas. John sat at the head of the table, tie loosened, tearing through legal strategies with brutal precision.

“No one’s leaving this damn table until someone gives me something that’ll actually hold up in court,” he snapped.

The room fell silent.

Then the door opened.

His secretary, Olive, stepped inside. She looked pale, her hands trembling. She knew better than to interrupt one of John’s meetings.

He barely looked up.

“Olive, if you value your job, you’ll walk right back out that door.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kavanagh,” she said quietly. “The hospital called. They asked for you. It’s… Courtney.”

Everything stopped.

John slowly looked up.

“They wouldn’t explain,” Olive continued “Only that you needed to come immediately.”

The words hit him like a punch.

Courtney.

His wife. Four months pregnant after two years of failed IVF, endless injections, appointments, heartbreak, and hope they had nearly lost.

And now the hospital was calling.

Without another word, John shoved his chair back so hard it screeched across the floor. Every barrister in the room stared as he walked toward Olive.

She stood frozen, trying to keep her composure.

When he reached her, he leaned in so only she could hear him.

“What happened, Olive?” he asked, his voice low and tightly controlled. “Tell me exactly what they said.”

She swallowed.

“They only said it was urgent. They needed you to come straight away.” Her voice cracked. “John… it was the maternity wing.”

His stomach dropped.

Behind him, the boardroom was silent. None of them had ever seen John Kavanagh look afraid.

His jaw tightened.

“Did they say she was…” The words refused to come. He couldn’t ask if Courtney—or their baby—was gone.

“No,” Olive said quickly. “Nothing like that. But… they sounded worried.”

For a moment, John stood completely still.

Then he turned toward the room.

“Postpone the briefing,” he said, his voice flat. “The trial can wait.”

He grabbed his coat without another glance.

“My wife can’t.”