got grimmer by the minute.
Adrian arrived twenty minutes later in a cashmere coat, rain on his shoulders, alarm carefully arranged across his features.
“What happened?” he asked, as if he had not ignored Elena’s call the previous night.
Mara stepped between him and the bed. “You tell me, politician.”
Dana intervened before the fight could spread. There were concerns about placental abruption. The baby’s heart rate dipped twice. Everything accelerated after that.
Consent forms. Bright lights. A surgical cap tied under Elena’s hair. The cold burn of antiseptic. Adrian asking in a clipped voice whether he could accompany her into the operating room.
“Not at this stage,” Dana said.
Adrian turned to Elena. “I should be there.”
She looked at him over the blue drape being raised across her chest.
“No,” she said.
He held her gaze a beat too long, then stepped back.
Right before they wheeled her through the doors, Dana bent close and said in a low voice, “If he tries anything afterward, don’t panic. You’re covered.”
Elena was too scared for herself or the baby to fully process what Dana meant.
Then surgery took over everything.
When she woke in recovery, the first thing she asked was, “The baby?”
“She’s fine,” Dana said. “Small, loud, excellent lungs.”
And then Maeve was beside her.
For ten minutes, the world was only that tiny face.
Then the door flew open.
Adrian entered first, his expression composed, tie loosened just enough to suggest a worried husband. Sabrina came behind him in a fitted ivory coatdress, her dark hair pinned perfectly in place despite the rain.
Her pregnancy was impossible to miss now.
Elena had expected many things that day.
Not this level of audacity.
Adrian did not ask how she felt. He did not look at the monitors or the bruising on her wrist from the IV. He walked directly to the bassinet and looked down at Maeve with an expression Elena had never seen before.
Triumph.
“There she is,” he said softly. “My daughter.”
“Don’t,” Elena said.
Sabrina shut the door with one manicured hand.
“You really should try to stay calm,” she said. “This doesn’t have to become ugly.”
Adrian slid his arms beneath the baby and lifted her.
Maeve woke immediately and began to cry.
Elena’s whole body lurched on instinct. Pain tore through her abdomen so sharply she saw black at the edges.
“Put her back.”
He turned to Sabrina.
“You said you were nervous about newborns,” he told her. “Start now.”
And he tried to hand Elena’s daughter to his mistress.
Elena made a sound she didn’t know a human throat could make.
She pushed herself upright, half-blind with pain, and that was when Sabrina moved.
She crossed the room in three fast steps and shoved Elena hard in the shoulder. Elena slammed back against the elevated bed. Before she could catch air, Sabrina’s fingers pressed against the base of her throat.
Not long. Not enough to bruise.
Enough.
“Stay down,” Sabrina whispered. “You don’t get to ruin this because you’re sentimental.”
Maeve’s cries sharpened.
Adrian didn’t intervene.
He stood beside Sabrina like this was a transfer of assets.
“Everything has already been arranged,” he said. “A residence, monthly support, medical care. You will be looked after if you cooperate.”
Elena stared at
