Chapter 2 - The Midnight Delivery
Julian didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. The moment he stepped onto the city bus and saw Claire collapsed on the floor, he shed his rain-soaked coat, wrapped it securely around her trembling shoulders, and scooped her up into his arms.
"Julian?" Claire gasped, her teeth chattering violently as another searing contraction racked her body. "What... what are you doing here?"
"Your former friend Sarah called me," Julian said, his voice a steady anchor amidst the storm as he carried her out of the bus and into the back seat of his SUV. "She couldn't help you because of her husband's ties to Ethan, but she couldn't sleep knowing you were out in the rain. She called me twenty minutes ago. Hold on, Claire. I've got you."
He slammed the door, jumped into the driver's seat, and hit the gas, tearing through red lights along Fifth Avenue toward Bellevue Hospital's high-risk maternity ward.
Inside the SUV, Claire held onto Julian’s leather seats, screaming in agonizing pain. The triplets were coming, and at twenty-eight weeks, their lungs were dangerously underdeveloped.
"They're too small, Julian!" Claire sobbed, blood and amniotic fluid soaking through her clothes. "They aren't ready!"
"Listen to me, Claire," Julian said, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror as his hands gripped the steering wheel tight. "You are the strongest woman I have ever known. You fought for three years to bring these babies here. They are going to survive. I am not letting anything happen to you or them."
When they pulled up to the emergency bay, Julian leaped out, throwing the driver-side door open and shouting for trauma staff. Within seconds, a team of neonatologists, nurses, and obstetricians flooded the bay, gurney in tow.
As they wheeled Claire into the surgical suite for an emergency Caesarean section, she reached out blindly through her tears. Julian caught her hand instantly, matching her stride beside the rolling bed.
"Don't leave me," she pleaded, terrified of the sterile, cold room waiting for her. "Please don't let me be alone."
Julian looked at the head surgeon. "I'm going in with her."
"Are you the father?" the nurse asked, handing him a set of surgical scrubs.
Julian hesitated for only a heartbeat, looking down at Claire's terrified face. "I'm her family. And I'm not leaving this room."
What followed was two hours of sheer, terrifying chaos. The operating room buzzed with alarms, surgical steel, and hushed commands. Claire lay behind the blue paper drape, her hand locked in Julian's grip so tightly her knuckles turned white. Julian never looked away from her face, whispering words of encouragement, wiping sweat from her forehead, and keeping her anchored while the surgical team worked frantically.
At 2:14 AM, the first tiny, thready cry echoed through the room.
"Baby A is out. Girl," the surgeon called. "Weight: two pounds, four ounces. NICU team, take her!"
Two minutes later, a second cry—even smaller—sounded. "Baby B is out. Girl. Two pounds, two ounces."
And finally, at 2:18 AM, a silence fell over the room that made Claire’s heart freeze.
"Baby C is not breathing," a nurse called out. "Resuscitation protocol!"
Claire let out a ragged, heartbroken scream, trying to push herself up from the operating table. "No! Please! God, no!"
Julian held her down gently, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he looked over the drape. "Stay down, Claire. Look at me. Look at me!" He grabbed both sides of her face, forcing her to focus on him. "Fight for them, Claire. Keep breathing."
For sixty agonizing seconds, the only sound was the rhythmic pumping of a tiny oxygen mask. Then, a sharp, angry, beautiful little squeak broke through the tension.
"We have a heart rate! Baby C is breathing! Girl, two pounds even!"
Claire collapsed back against the pillow, weeping uncontrollably. Julian bowed his head, resting his forehead against hers, letting out a long, ragged breath he felt like he’d been holding for years.
While Claire was wheeled into recovery, Julian stood outside the glass windows of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Inside three plastic incubators lay three microscopic baby girls, covered in wires, monitors, and breathing tubes.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was an automated alert from Ethan Mercer’s corporate PR firm, announcing Ethan’s upcoming appearance at a high-society charity gala in Aspen alongside actress Sabrina Vale.
May you like
Julian stared at the headline, then looked back through the glass at the three fragile lives fighting for breath in the incubator. His jaw set into stone.
Ethan Mercer had thrown away his gold. And Julian was going to make sure he spent the rest of his life regretting it.
