Chapter 9 - The Penthouse Nursery
There was no time to reach the hospital.
""Vance!"" Diane screamed toward the foyer. ""Call 911! Get paramedics up here right now! We are not going to make the elevator!""
Eva was already on the Persian rug in the center of the master living room. The sheer intensity of the labor had bypassed the transitional stage entirely. Her body was taking over, primal and unstoppable.
""Towels, Karen! Move!"" Diane commanded, stripping off her blazer and rolling up her sleeves. Despite being a corporate lawyer, Diane was the daughter of an obstetric nurse and knew the mechanics of emergency delivery. ""Eva, look at me. Look at my face.""
Eva looked up, sweat matting her dark hair against her forehead. Her breath came in ragged, burning gasps. The pain was unlike anything she had ever conceptualized—a physical tearing that threatened to shatter her consciousness.
""I need you to breathe, Eva,"" Diane said gently, kneeling beside her. ""Don't push yet. Wait for the peak of the next contraction.""
Downstairs, the distant wail of sirens cut through the midnight quiet of the city, but Eva knew they were five, maybe ten minutes away. The penthouse was on the 60th floor; the private elevators were fast, but not fast enough.
""I can't... let Weston touch this baby, Diane,"" Eva choked out, tears of pure strain finally leaking down her cheeks. ""If anything happens to me... the papers in the safe... you take full legal guardianship.""
""Nothing is happening to you,"" Diane snapped fiercely. ""You are Eva Vance. You built an empire with your bare hands while those leeches tried to suck you dry. You are delivering this child right here, and tomorrow you are going to watch them fall. Now, push!""
Eva screamed, a sound of fierce, unyielding fury that seemed to shake the glass walls overlooking the glowing city below. She pushed with every ounce of strength remaining in her exhausted frame.
Two minutes of agonizing effort followed. Outside, the storm had broken, rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows in violent sheets.
With one final, desperate exertion, the blinding pressure released.
A thin, high-pitched wail pierced the vast room.
Diane caught the baby in a clean white towel, her face breaking into a triumphant smile. ""It's a girl, Eva. She's breathing. She’s perfect.""
Eva fell back against the cushions, chest heaving, listening to the small, indignant cries of her daughter. For the first time in nine months, a wave of profound, unconditional peace washed over her. She reached out trembling arms, and Diane laid the warm, fragile infant against her bare chest.
""Maya,"" Eva whispered, kissing the child's damp, dark curls. ""Your name is Maya.""
The heavy elevator doors dinged open, and a team of four paramedics rushed into the foyer with trauma kits and a stretcher.
The lead paramedic knelt beside Eva, quickly assessing the baby’s vitals. ""Apgar score looks great, ma'am. Both of you are stable. We need to transport you to New York-Presbyterian for post-delivery care right away.""
Eva nodded weakly, allowing them to lift her onto the gurney, never letting go of Maya.
May you like
As they rolled her toward the elevator, Vance stepped up beside the gurney, his face grim despite the miracle that had just occurred. He leaned down to Eva’s ear.
""Eva, we have a massive problem,"" Vance whispered. ""Weston’s attorney just posted emergency cash bail through an anonymous off-shore bondsman twenty minutes ago. He is out of custody. And he’s heading toward the hospital.""
