Chapter 6 - The Contraction
The ballroom dissolved into polite murmurs and hurried whispers as the police led Weston and Eleanor away. Eva stood motionless at the podium, gripping the polished wood until her knuckles turned ivory. The sharp, searing cramp that had started during Eleanor’s parting threat didn't subside. It deepened, wrapping around her lower back like an iron band.
She was going into labor. Four weeks early.
Diane Brooks was at her side within seconds, reading the sudden tension in Eva’s posture. ""Eva? What is it?""
""My water just broke,"" Eva whispered, barely moving her lips so the front-row guests wouldn't notice. ""Get me out the private exit. Now.""
Diane signaled Vance immediately. Moving with practiced military precision, Vance and two guards formed a discrete moving wall around Eva, guiding her away from the stage and down the VIP service corridor behind the kitchen. By the time they reached the loading bay where the armored Maybach waited, Eva had to stop, bending forward against the hood as another contraction gripped her body.
""Breathe, Ms. Vance,"" Marcus urged, opening the rear door. ""Mount Sinai is eight minutes away with sirens.""
""No,"" Eva panted, collapsing into the plush leather seat. ""Not Mount Sinai. Eleanor's brother sits on the executive board of that hospital network. Take me to Presbyterian. And Vance—""
""Yes, ma'am?""
""Eleanor’s parting words weren't a bluff,"" Eva said through gritted teeth as another wave of pain rolled through her. ""She mentioned my offshore portfolio. Pull up the Zurich accounts on your secure tablet right now.""
Vance sat in the passenger seat, fingers flying across the ruggedized keyboard. The car surged forward into the rain-slicked city streets, emergency lights flashing behind the grille.
""She wasn't lying,"" Vance said, his voice unusually tense. ""Two hours ago, a notarized power of attorney was filed with your Swiss custodian. It had your digital signature, Eva. A transfer request of forty-two million dollars was initiated to an account registered in the Cayman Islands.""
""How?"" Eva demanded, fighting through the blinding pain. ""My biometric key is required for anything over ten million!""
""The authorization was verified using a voice-print match from this morning,"" Vance reported grimly. ""And an emergency medical proxy claiming you were incapacitated.""
Eva closed her eyes, riding out the contraction with steady, shallow breaths. Weston had recorded their confrontation at the penthouse. He had used her elevated voice, spliced the vocal frequencies through an AI synthesizer, and submitted it alongside forged medical notes from the clinic he visited for his foot.
""Cancel it,"" Eva gasped.
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""We have an eighteen-minute window before the European clearinghouse settles the batch,"" Vance replied, looking back with real alarm. ""To override a biometric voice-proxy, the bank requires an in-person retinal scan or a live video verification directly from you, signed with your original hardware token.""
Eva reached into her clutch. Her hands were shaking violently as another contraction tore through her abdomen. Her personal hardware token was sitting in the safe of her penthouse suite—across town, in the opposite direction of the hospital.
