Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the Glass
The private suite on the seventh floor of Hawthorne Medical Center was larger than the entire studio apartment Grace rented in South Philadelphia. Soft instrumental music played from concealed speakers, floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the skyline, and three top-tier obstetric specialists surrounded her bed within minutes.
An IV line was placed gently into the back of her hand, delivering fluids and medication that immediately eased the dull ache in her lower abdomen.
Through the clear glass partition separating the private suite from the observation lounge, Vincent Caruso stood motionless. Marco, his personal head of security and lifelong friend, walked up behind him, holding a sealed manila folder.
“Boss,” Marco said quietly. “We pulled Grace Miller’s background check. She’s twenty-eight. Born at Mercy Hospital in Camden. Mother: Rebecca Miller, deceased twelve years ago from pneumonia. Grace put herself through community college while working double shifts. No criminal record. Clean as fresh snow.”
Vincent didn't take his eyes off the young woman resting on the bed. “What about the child’s father?”
Marco hesitated. “Julian Vance. Junior associate at Miller & Vance Law. They were engaged until three months ago. When she told him she was pregnant, he broke the lease on their apartment, emptied their joint savings account of eight thousand dollars, and threatened to take out a restraining order if she came near his firm. He told her she was nothing but a janitor who tricked him.”
A glass tumbler in Vincent’s hand cracked under sudden, monstrous pressure. Blood welled at the corner of his palm, but he didn't even blink.
“Julian Vance,” Vincent murmured, memorizing the name like a death sentence.
“Boss, the lab technician took a swab from the rim of the coffee cup Grace touched downstairs, and we have your sample,” Marco added, presenting a sterilized case. “Dr. Mercer can run an expedited DNA sequence in the private wing. We’ll know for certain in ninety minutes.”
Vincent looked down at his bleeding hand, then at Grace’s peaceful profile through the glass.
May you like
“Run it,” Vincent said. “Though in my heart, Marco... I already know the answer.”
***
