Chapter 16 - The Night Our Son Arrived
Alora went into active labor the next evening.
No warning. No dramatic speech. One moment she was arguing with me about whether hospital coffee qualified as a human-rights violation, and the next she gripped the bed rail and said, "Oh, that's different."
The contraction monitor agreed.
Doctors moved quickly.
Our son was coming early.
Everything outside that room disappeared.
The police investigation. The cameras. The reporters. My mother.
For seven hours, there was only Alora.
She cursed me twice, apologized once, then cursed me again for accepting the apology.
"Don't you dare tell anyone I said sorry," she gasped.
"Taking it to the grave."
"Good."
At 3:41 A.M., our son arrived screaming.
I had heard boardrooms erupt, markets crash, and crowds cheer my name.
Nothing had ever sounded as powerful as that cry.
Alora sobbed when the nurse placed him against her chest.
I cried too.
I didn't hide it.
"Hi," she whispered to him. "I'm your mom. Nobody gets to change that."
The words broke me.
For the first time in weeks, I believed we might actually be safe.
Then hospital security called.
A woman matching Corrine's description had been seen in the parking garage.
My whole body went cold.
Security sealed the floor. Police searched stairwells and elevators. Officers checked every vehicle leaving the garage.
Twenty minutes passed.
No Corrine.
Thirty.
Nothing.
Then a nurse entered our room holding a clipboard.
"Mr. Sterling, did you authorize a transfer?"
"What transfer?"
She frowned.
"Someone entered an order to move your baby to neonatal observation on the third floor."
Alora clutched our son tighter.
"He's not going anywhere."
The nurse looked horrified.
"I didn't think so. The order came from a physician account that isn't assigned to this case."
Security checked the access log.
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The order had been entered from a workstation less than fifty feet from our room.
At that exact moment, the hallway fire alarm began to scream.
