Chapter 3 - The Doctor's Verdict
The master suite of Foxbridge Manor was a sprawling sanctuary of dark mahogany, leather furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the misty valley. Normally, Hudson kept this room locked like a fortress against the outside world. Today, it was the only warm harbor left in the house.
Hudson kicked open the heavy double doors and strode directly toward the king-sized bed, where he laid Naomi and the infants down upon a mountain of goose-down comforters.
Naomi gasped as the heat from the blazing hearth hit her skin, but she immediately curled over the babies again, her protective instincts refusing to switch off even in safety.
“Let go, Naomi,” Hudson instructed gently, his hands resting lightly over hers. “They need air. Let Dr. Vance examine them.”
Dr. Sarah Vance, an old family pediatrician and one of the few people in Aspen who dared speak truth to the billionaire, snapped her medical bag shut after finishing her rapid assessment of the fifth infant. Her face was grim as she turned toward Hudson and Naomi, who sat wrapped in thick wool blankets by the fire.
“They have mild hypothermia and upper respiratory infections,” Dr. Vance stated, her sharp eyes flicking between Hudson and the young maid. “If you had waited another two hours, Mr. Vale, we would be talking about catastrophic organ failure or worse. Their body temperatures had dropped to ninety-two degrees.”
Hudson felt a cold fist squeeze his internal organs. He looked at Naomi, who was shivering uncontrollably, her lips blue.
“What about her?” Hudson asked, pointing toward the maid.
“Exhaustion, severe caloric deficit, and early-stage hypothermia,” Sarah said flatly, pulling a digital thermometer from her pocket. “She gave her own thermal energy to keep five infants alive in a fifty-degree room for thirty-six hours without food or sleep. Mr. Vale, she saved their lives. Your high-priced agency nurses ran away like cowards when the storm hit, but this girl stayed on the floor.”
Sarah walked over to Naomi, handing her a warm cup of electrolyte broth from the kitchen tray a servant had hastily brought up. “Drink this slowly, young lady. You’re lucky your kidneys didn't shut down.”
Naomi took the mug with trembling hands, whispering a shy, “Thank you, Doctor.” She then looked up at Hudson, her eyes wide with lingering anxiety. “Are the girls going to be okay, Mr. Vale? Maya... did her fever break?”
“Yes,” Hudson answered, his voice thick. He walked over to the edge of the vast bed and looked down at the five small bundles sleeping side by side in a makeshift nest of blankets. For the first time in three months, he didn't look away. He looked at Maya’s tiny button nose, Clara’s tuft of dark hair, Sophie’s peaceful expression, Nora’s clenched fists, and Lily’s quiet breathing.
Names Delilah had chosen. Names Hudson had refused to whisper aloud.
“The fever is breaking,” Hudson said, his voice barely above a whisper. He turned his gaze back to Naomi. “You saved them, Naomi. You risked your own life for children you had no obligation to protect.”
“They’re babies, Mr. Vale,” Naomi said simply, as if that explained the entirety of human decency. “Nobody deserves to freeze in the dark.”
Hudson stood in silence for a long moment, the roaring fire casting long, flickering shadows across the mahogany walls. The corporate titan, the cold strategist, the billionaire who believed money could buy everything, realized at that moment he was utterly bankrupt where it mattered most.
“Marcus,” Hudson called out toward the open doorway.
His personal assistant stepped into the room instantly, his expression professional and composed.
“Boss? You called?”
“Fire the childcare agency. File a multi-million-dollar breach of contract lawsuit against them by noon. Inform local authorities that their nursing licenses are to be revoked immediately for abandonment of minors,” Hudson commanded, his voice returning to its razor-sharp corporate edge, though something deeper and darker underpinned it.
“Consider it done,” Marcus replied, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the scene on the bed. “And what about the household staff?”
“Mrs. Gable is suspended pending an internal review,” Hudson said coldly. He turned back to Naomi, his expression softening into something unreadable. “And as for Naomi Brooks... she is no longer a maid.”
Naomi’s mug slipped slightly in her hand. “Mr. Vale?”
“Effective immediately, Naomi is promoted to Head of Family Operations and Executive Guardian of the Nursery,” Hudson stated, leaving zero room for debate. “Her salary is increased tenfold. She will be provided with executive quarters in the east wing, a dedicated vehicle, and absolute authority over any staff member in this house. If anyone questions her orders, they answer directly to me.”
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Naomi stared at him, her jaw dropping. “Mr. Vale, I... I can't. I’m just a maid. I don't know anything about running a large estate or managing staff—!”
“You know how to keep my daughters alive when everyone else abandoned them,” Hudson interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. He stepped closer to the bed, looking down at her with an intensity that made the air in the room shift. “That makes you the most valuable person in this entire county. Now drink your broth, Naomi. We have a household to rebuild.”
