Four hospital security officers stepped out first, their hands resting cautiously near their belts. They did not look at the patients. They did not look at the nurses. They formed a swift, silent barricade around the elevator banks.
Then came the man himself.
Raymond Saint Claire was sixty-two years old, built like a retired boxer, and wore a bespoke charcoal suit that commanded absolute silence in any room he entered. He did not walk; he advanced. His silver hair was perfectly swept back, but his dark eyes held a storm that made the temperature in the hallway seem to drop ten degrees.
Preston scoffed, though his voice wavered slightly. “Uncle Raymond? What are you doing here? This is the maternity ward.”
Raymond ignored him entirely. He didn’t even look at Preston.
His eyes locked onto Emily. He saw her pale face. He saw her hand gripping the silver rail. And then, his gaze dropped to the blossoming red mark on the fabric of her maternity dress, just below her ribs.
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush bone.
“Emily,” Raymond said, his voice a low, terrifying rumble. “Who touched you?”
Before Emily could speak, Preston stepped forward, puffing out his chest, completely misreading the situation. “Uncle Ray, it’s nothing. Emily is just being hysterical. She showed up uninvited while Vanessa and I were having a private—”
“I asked my niece a question,” Raymond snapped, his voice cracking through the air like a whip.
Preston froze. “Niece?”
Vanessa’s cherry-red smile faltered. She looked from Preston to Raymond, her manicured fingers tightening on her expensive cashmere coat. “Preston, who is this old man?” she whispered, annoyed.
The head nurse behind the desk gasped loudly.
Raymond slowly turned his head to look at Vanessa. His eyes dragged up and down her frame, dissecting her worth in a fraction of a second and finding it zero.
“I am the man who owns the floor you are standing on,” Raymond said quietly. “I own the walls. I own the machines. I own the name on the door. And in about ten seconds, I am going to own your miserable future if you don’t answer my question. Who kicked her?”
Emily finally let go of the rail. She stood up a little straighter. “She did, Uncle Raymond. And Preston watched.”
Raymond’s jaw tightened. He snapped his fingers.
The head of security stepped forward instantly. “Yes, Mr. Saint Claire?”
“Lock down the hospital,” Raymond ordered. “Call the police. I want a statement taken from every nurse and patient in this hallway. And then I want these two pieces of trash forcibly removed from my property.”
Preston’s face drained of all color. He suddenly looked like a little boy playing dress-up in a businessman’s suit. “Wait, wait! Uncle Raymond—what are you talking about? Your property? This is a Whitmore hospital! My father—”
“Your father,” Raymond interrupted, stepping so close to Preston that the younger man stumbled backward, “is a glorified manager. The Whitmore family owns twenty percent of this hospital. The Saint Claire family owns eighty. I allowed your father to put his name on the door twenty years ago because he begged me on his hands and knees for a brand deal. And I allowed you to marry my niece because she loved you, and she asked me to hide her wealth so she could know if you loved her for her, and not her money.”
Raymond smiled, but it was a terrifying, cold thing.
“It seems you failed the test, Preston.”
Vanessa shrank back, her haughty demeanor crumbling into sheer panic. “Preston,” she hissed. “What is he talking about? You said you owned everything!”
“Take them,” Raymond commanded the guards.
“Don’t touch me!” Vanessa shrieked as a burly security guard grabbed her arm. Her designer heel slipped on the polished floor, and she went sprawling, her cashmere coat wiping the floor.
Preston tried to reach for Emily. “Em, please, wait! This is a misunderstanding! I didn’t know—”
“Get your hands off my niece,” Raymond roared. Two guards slammed Preston against the wall, zip-tying his hands behind his back.
Emily looked at the man she had loved for five years. She felt the baby kick again—strong and healthy.
