But when the nurse laid that small, warm, crying weight upon my chest, the isolation vanished entirely. Elias had Samuel’s thick, dark hair, but as he let out a furious, powerful wail that echoed off the tile walls, I knew he had my stubborn lungs. I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my lips to his forehead. In that solitary, agonizing triumph of childbirth, a maternal bond was forged that was stronger than steel. It was just the two of us against the world, and I was suddenly, fiercely ready for war.
Miles away, as the first grey light of dawn began to bleed across the city skyline, a very different kind of desperation was taking place.
Inside the sprawling Hale family mansion, Derek and Vivian had bypassed mourning entirely. They were currently standing in the center of Samuel’s private, mahogany-paneled study, systematically tearing the room apart. Books were thrown onto the Persian rugs. Paintings were ripped from the walls.
“Find the trust amendment, Derek!” Vivian hissed, her hands frantically pulling open the drawers of Samuel’s massive antique desk. Her pristine funeral attire had been replaced by a silk bathrobe, her hair wild with greed. “Samuel was paranoid before the accident. I know he drafted a secondary succession document. If that little gold-digging bitch registers that baby as the primary heir before we can file the corporate restructuring paperwork with the state, we lose our controlling stake in the company.”
“I’m looking, Mother!” Derek snapped, sweating profusely as he pulled a heavy crowbar from a duffel bag.
He approached the large oil painting of their grandfather that hung behind the desk, ripping it down to reveal a heavy steel wall safe. Derek jammed the crowbar into the seam of the digital keypad, violently prying the electronic locking mechanism away from the steel. With a grunt of exertion, he bypassed the lock and swung the heavy door open.
Derek reached inside. His face, already pale from exertion, drained of all remaining color.
“Well?” Vivian demanded, stepping forward. “Is it there? The primary ledger?”
Derek backed away from the safe, the crowbar slipping from his hands and clattering loudly against the hardwood floor. “It’s gone,” he whispered, staring into the dark, empty steel cavity. “The primary ledger, the irrevocable trust binder, the corporate master drive… they’re all completely gone.”
Back at the hospital, I was lying in the quiet recovery ward, holding a sleeping Elias against my chest. The door to my room clicked open.
I looked up, expecting to see a nurse coming to check my vitals. Instead, a tall, impeccably dressed man in a charcoal pinstripe suit stepped into the room. He had silver hair, eyes like chipped flint, and carried a heavy, brushed-steel lockbox in his hands.
It was Mr. Sterling, Samuel’s notoriously ruthless, fiercely loyal private corporate attorney.
He closed the door softly behind him, ensuring it locked. He walked over to my bed, his sharp eyes softening just a fraction as he looked down at Elias. He placed the heavy steel lockbox onto the rolling hospital tray table.
