Chapter 4 - Thirty-Two Weeks
Emily knew something was wrong when everyone stopped explaining.
The fetal heartbeat dropped.
Recovered.
Dropped again.
Dr. Foster moved quickly.
“We’re going to the operating room.”
Emily gripped the bedrail.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
Dr. Foster looked her directly in the eyes.
“We are going to keep him alive.”
Raymond appeared in the doorway as the bed began moving.
Emily saw his face.
“You found something.”
He walked beside her.
“We will talk after your son is safe.”
“Uncle Raymond.”
He hesitated.
Emily knew him too well.
“What did Preston do?”
Raymond leaned close.
“The camera survived.”
Emily shut her eyes briefly.
“And?”
“Vanessa mentioned the trust.”
Emily opened them.
The lights above her passed one after another as they raced toward surgery.
“She knows?”
“It appears so.”
“How?”
“I’m going to find out.”
Emily’s breathing changed.
Raymond squeezed her hand.
“Stay with your son.”
The operating room doors opened.
Raymond had to stop.
Emily disappeared inside.
Preston was still outside maternity when two police officers arrived.
His face changed immediately.
“This is a private family matter.”
One officer answered.
“An assault inside a hospital is not private.”
Vanessa stood farther down the corridor with her arms folded.
When she saw the officers, she looked toward Preston.
Not lovingly.
Accusingly.
“You said the footage was gone.”
Preston’s head snapped toward her.
“Shut up.”
The nearest officer heard him.
So did Raymond.
Raymond stepped closer.
“What exactly were you expecting to disappear?”
Preston’s face hardened.
“You hate me.”
“No.”
Raymond looked toward the operating room.
“I underestimated you.”
A nurse suddenly rushed through the doors.
The neonatal team followed.
A tiny incubator waited beside them.
Preston stared.
“My son?”
No one answered.
Minutes became unbearable.
Then the doors opened again.
Dr. Foster stepped out.
Her surgical mask hung beneath her chin.
Raymond approached first.
“Emily?”
“Stable.”
“The baby?”
Dr. Foster breathed out.
“Delivered by emergency cesarean.”
Preston moved forward.
“Is he alive?”
Dr. Foster looked at him.
“Yes.”
Preston closed his eyes.
For one second, relief appeared genuine.
Then Dr. Foster continued.
“He weighs three pounds, thirteen ounces.”
The incubator rolled past.
Inside was a tiny infant surrounded by wires.
Emily’s son.
Preston took one step toward him.
Security blocked him.
Raymond watched Preston’s face.
There was relief.
Fear.
And something else.
Calculation.
Then one of the police officers approached Raymond holding a phone.
“Mr. Saint Claire.”
“Yes?”
“We searched Ms. Cross’s purse with her consent.”
Vanessa spun around.
“You did what?”
The officer held up a small plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a folded photocopy.
May you like
Raymond recognized Catherine Saint Claire’s trust letterhead.
Vanessa had been carrying a confidential page from Emily’s inheritance agreement.
