Chương 2
“No,” he said, almost to himself, “definitely not.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
He stepped backward.
“Sorry.”
“You should probably keep looking.”
“That was the plan.”
He disappeared.
Thirty seconds later, Tasha hurried in carrying a blood-pressure cuff.
“Did that man bother you?”
“He got lost.”
She looked toward the hall.
“Of course he did.”
“You know him?”
“Everybody knows him.”
That could have meant a doctor, politician, criminal, or man who habitually wandered into maternity rooms.
I was too tired to care which.
My blood pressure had climbed.
Tasha stopped joking.
Within minutes Dr. Ruiz was back, examining the monitors while another nurse adjusted medication.
“What changed?” I asked.
“One of the babies is showing intermittent decelerations.”
“Which one?”
“Baby C.”
Baby C.
The label felt obscenely impersonal for someone whose heartbeat could make an entire room move faster.
“I named her Lily,” I said.
Dr. Ruiz met my eyes.
“Then Lily is having some trouble, and we’re watching her closely.”
I pressed both hands around my belly.
“Her brothers are Noah and Sam.”
“Okay.”
“Use their names.”
“We will.”
The room settled again, but not completely.
At three seventeen, Lily’s heartbeat dipped.
At three twenty-nine, it dipped again.
By four, Dr. Ruiz was discussing corticosteroids, respiratory support, and the possibility that delaying delivery might become more dangerous than allowing it.
I called Ethan.
The call went directly to voicemail.
I called again.
Then a third time.
On the fourth attempt, someone answered.
A woman whispered, “Hello?”
I stopped breathing.
“Who is this?”
There was movement on the other end.
Then Ethan’s irritated voice replaced hers.
“Claire?”
“I’m in the hospital.”
Silence.
“What happened?”
“My water broke.”
His irritation vanished.
“All right, listen, call your obstetrician.”
“I’m already in labor and there are three neonatal teams preparing in case they have to deliver.”
Another silence followed, longer this time.
“Are the babies okay?”
“I don’t know.”
I hated how relieved I was that he had finally asked.
“What hospital?”
I told him.
“I’m in California.”
“I know where you are.”
“I can get a flight tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Claire, I can’t turn the plane around now.”
“You landed already.”
He said nothing.
The small lie hurt more than it deserved to.
I could hear Sabrina somewhere near him asking whether everything was okay.
“No,” I said, “don’t come.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn this into some test I’m supposed to fail.”
I closed my eyes.
“You already failed it.”
He exhaled sharply.
“I’ll have my assistant contact the hospital about the insurance.”
“You canceled it.”
“It was tied to the household restructuring.”
“I’m your pregnant wife until the divorce is final.”
“We’re not doing this at four in the morning.”
“No, Ethan, you’re not doing this at four in the morning.”
I ended the call before he could answer.
My hand shook so badly that the phone slipped onto the blanket.
From the doorway came the same calm voice I had heard earlier.
“You should save that call log.”
The lost man stood there again, now without his overcoat, his white shirt open at the collar.
I wiped my face with the heel of my hand.
“Do you make a habit of entering strangers’ rooms?”
“Tonight, apparently.”
“You were listening.”
“I was walking past.”
“That isn’t better.”
“No.”
He glanced toward the phone.
“If your insurance was terminated because your husband is attempting to pressure you during a divorce, keep records of every communication.”
“You’re a lawyer?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll add unsolicited legal advice to your list of problems.”
Something almost like amusement crossed his face.
“Fair.”
Tasha appeared behind him.
“Mr. Vale, your mother is asking for you.”
The name landed slowly.
Vale.
I had heard Ethan say it dozens of times, never casually.
Adrian Vale bought companies other billionaires were afraid to compete with, and business magazines described him with words like ruthless when they wanted to avoid words that might invite litigation.
Ethan had once spent six months trying to secure a meeting with him.
Adrian Vale looked nothing like the monster Ethan described.
He mostly looked tired.
He nodded toward my phone.
“Keep the records anyway.”
Then he left.
Tasha waited until his footsteps disappeared.
“You really told Adrian Vale he has problems.”
“I’m having a difficult night.”
“That man could buy this building.”
“Then maybe he can fix the vending machine.”
Tasha laughed once, covered her mouth, and then the monitor beside me screamed.
Lily’s heartbeat dropped so quickly that I saw Dr. Ruiz running before anyone explained what was happening.
Hands lowered the bed.
Oxygen covered my face.
Someone told me to turn onto my left side.
Dr. Ruiz watched the tracing for several unbearable seconds.
“Claire, we need to deliver.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
“No, she’s too small.”
“I know.”
“All of them?”
“We can’t safely leave the others after delivering Lily.”
My entire body went cold beneath the heated blankets.
“Will they live?”
Dr. Ruiz gripped the rail beside my hand.
“I can’t promise you that.”
The ceiling lights streaked overhead as they rushed me toward the operating room.
At the elevator, we stopped for perhaps five seconds while another bed was moved out.
Adrian stood beside an elderly woman in that bed, one hand resting protectively over hers.
His mother looked pale but awake.
Adrian saw me surrounded by nurses and understood enough not to speak.
I did not know why I reached toward him.
Maybe terror makes strangers of us before it makes fools of us.
His hand closed around mine for the briefest second.
“I have nobody,” I whispered through the oxygen mask.
His expression changed.
Not softened.
Changed.
He looked at Dr. Ruiz.
“Is she asking me to stay?”
“I’m asking you,” I said.
The elevator doors opened.
Adrian walked in beside my bed.
“I’ll stay.”
The operating room doors swung apart, and the cold hit me first.
A nurse stopped Adrian at the threshold and shoved a disposable gown, cap, and mask into his hands.
May you like
“You’re support person?”
“For the next ten minutes, apparently.”
