Chapter 3 - Smiles in the Daylight
Dawn broke over the city in muted shades of gray and gold. Sunlight spilled through the expansive panoramic windows of Suite 804, illuminating the massive bouquets of white lilies that Daniel had ordered. White lilies—the flower of funerals. The irony was so blatant it tasted like copper on my tongue.
At 7:00 a.m., the door swung open with a cheerful click. Daniel was already up, impeccably groomed, wearing an Italian cashmere sweater that made him look like the quintessential doting husband for the hospital cameras. He was holding a freshly brewed cup of herbal tea.
"Good morning, my love," Daniel said, offering that dazzling, dimpled smile that had once made my heart skip beats. He placed the mug on my rolling tray. "Dr. Hale says your induction is scheduled for nine. How are you feeling?"
"A little nervous," I said, putting on a fragile, trembling voice. I rubbed my belly and looked down at my hands, acting every bit the overwhelmed heiress about to endure labor. "My contractions are getting closer together, Daniel. Are you sure Dr. Hale is the best choice? Maybe we should wait for natural labor..."
Daniel’s smile hardened at the edges for a fraction of a second before softening back into false tenderness. He sat on the edge of the bed and took my hands, squeezing them tightly. A little too tightly.
"Claire, we’ve discussed this," he said gently, stroking my knuckles. "Hale is the head of the department. With your family history of preeclampsia, an induced labor in a controlled environment is the safest route for our baby. You trust me, don't you?"
"Of course I trust you," I murmured, leaning against his shoulder. Over his shoulder, I caught sight of the bathroom mirror. My reflection was deadpan, chillingly calm. "Who else in the world would I trust if not my husband?"
Right on cue, Dr. Marcus Hale entered the room. He wore pristine white coats and silver-rimmed glasses, exuding the effortless poise of a high-society physician. But behind his glasses, his eyes were twitching, sunken from sleeplessness. A man drowning under five million dollars of Macau debt looks like a ghost if you know what to look for.
"Good morning, Mrs. Vance," Dr. Hale said, opening his leather portfolio. "The delivery suite is being sterilized. We’ll be starting your oxytocin drip shortly, followed by an early epidural to ensure you experience zero discomfort."
"Zero discomfort," I repeated, looking straight into his eyes. Hale flinched, his gaze immediately darting away toward Daniel. "That sounds almost too peaceful, Doctor. Like going to sleep and never waking up."
Daniel let out a sharp, nervous laugh. "Don't be morbid, Claire! You're just anxious. First-time mothers always get jittery." He turned toward Hale, nodding subtly. "Dr. Hale, shouldn't you prep the initial sedation line now? My wife didn't sleep well."
"Sedation?" I frowned, tilting my head. "I thought you said induction, not sedation."
"Just a mild relaxant," Hale intervened smoothly, pulling a pre-filled syringe from his pocket tray. "Standard protocol for high-stress patients."
"I don't want it," I said firmly, withdrawing my arm beneath the sheets.
Daniel’s jaw tightened. The facade of the doting husband cracked for an instant. "Claire, stop being difficult. The doctor knows what he’s doing. Give him your arm."
"I said no, Daniel," I spoke clearly, my voice carrying across the suite. "Not until my brother gets here."
Daniel froze. "Ethan? What does Ethan have to do with this? He’s in Chicago."
May you like
"He was," I said, offering Daniel a small, sweet smile that sent a flicker of panic across his handsome face. "He took the red-eye. He should be parking right about now."
***
