Chapter 5 - The Glass Partition
Three days later, I was allowed out of bed.
Wearing a soft hospital robe and sitting in a motorized wheelchair, I rolled down the long, quiet hallway of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. The room was bathed in soft blue light, filled with the gentle hum of heart monitors and incubators.
Dr. Harrison led me to Isolette Seven.
Inside the clear plastic box lay a tiny, precious bundle wrapped in a miniature flannel blanket. He had a patch of dark hair, long fingers, and a tiny nose that mirrored my own. Tubes monitored his heart and respiration, but his skin was warm and pink.
"He's a fighter, Maya," Dr. Harrison said, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "We're calling him Leo."
I reached through the rubber-sleeved portals of the incubator, gently touching his tiny foot. His little toes curled around my index finger with a surprisingly firm grip.
"Hey there, little man," I whispered, tears blurring my vision. "You made it. We both made it."
Behind me, the automatic glass doors of the NICU slid open. I turned my wheelchair around, expecting my father or Captain Miller.
Instead, standing between two armed military police officers, was Carter.
He looked unrecognizable. The crisp, tailored suits he prided himself on were gone, replaced by a drab gray county jail jumpsuit. His hair was messy, his eyes were bloodshot and dark-ringed, and his hands were cuffed in front of his waist.
When his eyes landed on me, a mixture of panic, shame, and desperate pleading flared across his face.
"Maya..." he rasped, stepping forward before the MP placed a heavy gloved hand on his shoulder, keeping him ten feet away. "Maya, please... you have to talk to them."
I looked at him silently, holding Leo's tiny finger inside the incubator.
"They won't grant me bail!" Carter stammered, his voice trembling violently. "My uncle was indicted yesterday! The firm fired me this morning! They're revoking my law license, Maya! My mother... they seized her house! She's staying in a motel!"
"Is she?" I asked, my voice completely flat. "I hope the sheets are clean."
"Maya, I'm sorry!" Carter sobbed, dropping to his knees on the polished linoleum floor, the handcuffs clinking loudly against his jumpsuit. "I was wrong! I was stressed about the firm, I was drinking—I didn't mean to push you! I didn't know you were bleeding that badly!"
"You stood over me while I begged for 911, Carter," I said, every word coming out cold, crisp, and precise. "You kicked my phone across the floor. You told me your uncle owned this city."
"I was stupid! I was arrogant!" he wept, pressing his forehead against the floor tiles near my foot. "Please... ask your father to stop the federal charges. I'll sign anything! I'll give you the house! I'll give you every dollar I have left! Just don't let them send me to prison!"
My father walked into the NICU, stepping slowly out of the shadows near the entrance. He stopped right beside my wheelchair, placing a large, protective hand on my shoulder. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to.
I looked down at Carter kneeling at my feet, weeping like a child on the floor of the room where his son was fighting for his life.
"You were right about one thing, Carter," I said, leaning forward slightly in my chair.
Carter looked up, a tiny sliver of pathetic hope gleaming in his tear-soaked eyes. "What? What was I right about?"
"You said I had no power," I replied, pointing a finger toward the clear plastic box behind me. "And you were right. I didn't use my power to hurt you. I used it to save my son. But my father... his power is just beginning."
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My father looked down at the two MPs. "Take this trash out of my grandson's room."
The MPs grabbed Carter by his armpits, hauling him to his feet. He screamed and begged all the way down the corridor, his frantic shouts echoing off the glass partitions until the double doors slammed shut, leaving only the steady, peaceful beat of Leo's heart monitor behind.
