Chapter 121: From The Claws of Death

The small white robotic puppy, which had been lying motionless at Alexander’s feet like an ordinary toy, sprang to life without warning.

In one fluid motion, it climbed over the baby’s tiny body. For the briefest second, the nursery fell into a stunned silence.

Then the puppy carefully positioned its front paws on Alexander’s chest and pushed.

Each push was perfectly measured—neither too deep nor too shallow—precise to the fraction of a millimeter. Tiny servos hummed beneath its sleek white frame as sophisticated sensors monitored the baby’s fragile body.

A shrill mechanical chirp echoed through the room.

The puppy’s muzzle shifted with a series of soft clicks, transforming into a remarkably human-shaped mouthpiece. It sealed over Alexander’s tiny mouth and delivered a gentle breath before immediately returning to another cycle of compressions.

It wasn’t hesitating.

It simply followed its life-saving protocol with flawless precision.

The nanny, awakened by the piercing emergency alarm, rushed into the nursery. One look at Alexander lying limp in his crib sent her into hysterics.

"Oh my God! Baby Alexander!"

She lunged forward.

"Get back!"

Kristoff’s thunderous command exploded through the room, freezing everyone in place.

"Call the doctor!"

Charlotte finally appeared in the doorway, her face drained of color as she stumbled from the bedroom.

"I-I’m on it," she stammered.

But her trembling fingers merely scrolled aimlessly across her phone. She wasn’t dialing anyone.

She couldn’t even think.

Kristoff was already beside the crib.

Every instinct screamed at him to rip the robotic puppy away and perform CPR himself.

His son. His baby. He reached forward— Then stopped.

His gaze dropped to his own large and powerful hands.

Hands that had broken bones in fights and shattered wood with a single punch.

What if he pressed too hard?

What if, in his desperation, he crushed Alexander’s fragile ribs?

His breath caught as he forced himself to look at what the robot was doing.

Its compression was perfect.

Its paws were scarcely larger than the baby’s chest. Every movement was impossibly controlled, guided by calculations no human could perform under such crushing pressure. There wasn’t a single wasted motion.

It was doing exactly what Alexander needed.

Kristoff clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, forcing himself not to interfere.

"Did you call the doctor?"

His voice was sharp enough to cut through steel.

Charlotte flinched.

"K-Kris... I... I can’t find the number..."

Her words dissolved into helpless sobs as she stared blankly at the screen in her shaking hands.

"Damn it!"

Kristoff snatched out his own phone and jabbed the emergency contact with trembling fingers.

The call connected almost instantly.

"This is Kristoff Dalton," he barked, struggling to keep his voice steady as the robotic puppy continued its relentless rhythm behind him. "We have a pediatric cardiac emergency at Dalton Mansion."

His eyes never left Alexander.

"Dispatch your fastest medical team."

A heartbeat of silence.

Then he added, his voice dropping into a terrifying calm,

"And send the helicopter."

Behind him, the robotic puppy completed another perfect compression.

Still no response from Alexander.

...

Meanwhile, at the Foster Mansion, Isobel sat rigidly on her ergonomic chair, every muscle in her body locked with tension. The glow of multiple monitors illuminated her pale face as her fingers raced across the keyboard, striking the keys with frantic precision.

Lines of code streamed down the screen.

Status windows flashed.

System diagnostics updated in real time.

Months ago, she had secretly installed a custom program into the robotic puppy Kristoff had bought for Alexander.

She had never intended to spy on him.

She told herself it was only a safeguard—a silent failsafe that would allow her to monitor the puppy’s systems and intervene if something ever went wrong.

Maybe it had been paranoia.

Maybe it had simply been a mother’s instinct refusing to be ignored.

Whatever the reason, that single decision was now the only thing standing between Alexander and death.

The emergency protocol she had written had overridden the puppy’s core operating system the instant it detected the baby’s cardiac arrest. Now, every movement the little robot made flowed directly from her commands.

She wasn’t just watching.

She was performing the CPR herself—from miles away.

A warning flashed across her monitor in angry crimson letters.

WARNING: SUBJECT’S VITAL SIGNS CRITICAL. ESTIMATED TIME TO IRREVERSIBLE DEATH: 02:00 MINUTES.

"No..." she whispered.

Her fingers moved even faster, sending micro-adjustments to the puppy’s compression depth and ventilation pressure dozens of times each second.

Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the cool air of the room.

She couldn’t afford to panic.

Her hands shook so violently that her fingers hovered over the wrong keys. She caught herself just in time, her pulse pounding in her ears.

No. Not now.

She squeezed her eyes shut for the briefest instant, drew in one slow, deliberate breath, then exhaled. The tremor in her hands eased just enough.

Focus. One mistake. One incorrect command. One fraction of a second’s delay...

...and Alexander would slip beyond her reach forever.

Isobel hit the Enter button. For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then the audio feed crackled.

A weak, raspy cry drifted from the speakers.

The smallest sound.

Yet to Isobel, it was louder than thunder.

Her entire body went limp with relief as tears spilled down her cheeks. A sob escaped her lips, half laughter, half anguish.

"Alex..." she whispered, her voice breaking. "My son..."

She pressed trembling fingers against her mouth, unable to stop crying.

"I’ve got you."

Another tiny cry echoed through the speakers, stronger this time.

A smile, fragile and disbelieving, spread across her tear-streaked face.

"I’ve finally snatched you back from Hades."

...

Isobel watched in silence as Kristoff slipped one arm beneath Alexander’s tiny body and lifted him from the crib with extraordinary care, as though he were made of the thinnest glass.

He gathered the baby against his chest.

For a long moment, he simply held him there, his eyes squeezed shut.

The terror that had twisted his features moments earlier slowly unraveled, replaced by overwhelming relief. His shoulders sagged as he buried his face in Alexander’s soft hair, breathing in the unmistakable scent of his son, reassuring himself that he was alive.

His son was alive.

Only then did Kristoff look up.

His gaze settled on the little white robotic puppy sitting quietly beside the crib, its emergency protocol finally complete.

Through the puppy’s camera, Isobel found herself staring straight into his eyes.

Her breath caught.