Chapter 4
The hospital smelled like fear disguised as cleanliness.
Emily lay in a bed with monitors strapped around her stomach.
A nurse moved calmly.
Too calmly.
I stood near the wall because Emily had asked me not to crowd her.
Every beep made my heart stop.
The doctor looked at the screen.
“The baby’s heartbeat is strong,” she said.
Emily closed her eyes.
I nearly collapsed from relief.
“But stress can trigger contractions,” the doctor continued.
“She needs rest. No confrontations. No media. No unnecessary pressure.”
Emily laughed weakly.
“That may be difficult.”
The doctor looked at me.
“Then make it less difficult.”
“I will.”
Emily opened her eyes.
“Don’t promise things you can’t control.”
“I can control more than I did yesterday.”
“That’s what scares me.”
I deserved that too.
A nurse stepped in.
“Mr. Cole, police are here.”
Emily stiffened.
“For me?”
“No,” I said quickly.
“For Victoria.”
But the officer who entered did not look friendly.
He looked at Emily like he had already decided what she was.
“Ms. Harper,” he said, “we need to ask about allegations that you stole private documents from the Cole residence.”
I stepped forward.
“She has been in the hospital.”
The officer held up a report.
“Mrs. Victoria Cole filed a complaint before her arrest.”
Emily’s lips parted.
“She never stops.”
I turned to Martin, who had just arrived.
“Handle this.”
Martin took the report and scanned it.
Then his face hardened.
“Officer, this complaint references documents recovered from Ms. Harper’s apartment at 9:12 this morning.”
“Yes.”
“Ms. Harper has not lived at that apartment for two months.”
The officer blinked.
Martin continued.
“And the building cameras will show Victoria Cole’s assistant entering yesterday evening.”
The officer’s expression shifted.
Not enough.
But enough.
I looked at Emily.
“Did Victoria have access to your old apartment?”
“My lease ended. The landlord changed the locks.”
Martin looked grim.
“Unless someone paid him not to.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man breathed once, then spoke.
“Tell Emily to stop digging.”
My body went still.
“Who is this?”
“Someone who knows hospitals have exits.”
Then he hung up.
I looked at the window.
At the hallway.
At every person passing the door.
“Security,” I said.
Martin nodded.
“Already calling.”
Emily watched my face.
“What happened?”
“Nothing you need to carry right now.”
“I am tired of men deciding what I can handle.”
The words cut clean.
I walked to her bedside.
“Someone threatened you.”
She absorbed it without surprise.
That hurt.
“Victoria?”
“Maybe.”
Emily shook her head.
“No. Victoria threatens in ways people can see. This sounds like her father.”
“Camille’s husband?”
“Grant Vale.”
I knew Grant.
Everyone did.
Shipping contracts.
Political favors.
Quiet money.
A man who smiled while closing doors.
Emily stared at the ceiling.
“He came to see me once.”
“When?”
“After I started cleaning at the hotel.”
My voice dropped.
“What did he say?”
“That if I cared about my baby, I would disappear after birth.”
The monitor sped up.
The nurse looked over.
I forced my voice soft.
“Breathe.”
Emily glared at me through tears.
“I have been breathing through this alone for seven months.”
“I know.”
“No, Alexander. You don’t.”
She turned her face away.
“You had grief. I had survival.”
I had no answer.
Because she was right.
That evening, the paternity test was performed with Emily’s consent.
Not because I doubted her.
Because the law would need a shield.
While we waited for results, I sat outside her room.
My mother arrived near midnight.
Her hair was undone.
Her eyes were swollen.
“She won’t see me,” she said.
“Good.”
Eleanor flinched.
“I made mistakes.”
“You threatened her.”
“I believed Victoria.”
“No,” I said.
“You believed what made your life easier.”
Her mouth trembled.
“I was afraid you would give everything to a woman beneath us.”
I stood.
“There it is.”
She lowered her eyes.
“You hate me.”
“I don’t know what I feel.”
A nurse opened Emily’s door.
“She’s asking for you.”
I went in.
Emily looked exhausted.
But her eyes were clear.
“Your mother?”
“Gone if you want her gone.”
She nodded.
Then whispered, “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
I sat beside her.
Not touching.
Just there.
At dawn, Martin entered with the results.
He looked at me.
Then at Emily.
“The baby is yours.”
Emily began to cry silently.
I leaned forward, my own eyes burning.
“Hi,” I whispered to my daughter through Emily’s stomach.
“I’m late.”
May you like
Emily covered her face.
“But I’m here now.”
