Chapter 15 - Through the Looking Glass
Ten minutes later, the double doors of the recovery room clicked open again.
Julian pushed a mobile neonatal crib into the room, accompanied by a senior pediatric nurse. Inside the clear plastic bassinet, swaddled in a soft pink blanket with a tiny knit cap over her head, slept their daughter. Her oxygen levels had stabilized; she was breathing on her own without the mechanical ventilator.
Emilia struggled to sit up, ignoring the searing pain in her abdomen. The nurse gently lifted the fragile bundle and placed her into Emilia's open arms.
The moment the baby's skin touched Emilia's chest, the world seemed to stop spinning. The infant let out a soft, tiny sigh, nuzzling her cheek against the warmth of Emilia's hospital gown. Her tiny face was peaceful, completely unaware of the monstrous web of deceit that surrounded her arrival.
Tears spilled over Emilia's cheeks, but this time they were not tears of anger or shame. They were the primal, fierce tears of a mother who would burn the world to ashes before letting harm come to her child.
Julian stood silently near the foot of the bed, watching them with an aching, broken expression. "She looks like you," he whispered cautiously. "She has your brow."
Emilia did not look up. She traced the tiny, delicate curve of the baby's ear with her trembling fingertip.
"Her name is Clara," Emilia whispered softly, her voice carrying a steely resolve that Julian had never heard before. "Clara Mercer."
Julian felt a tiny flicker of hope ignite in his shattered chest. "Clara. It's beautiful."
"Don't misunderstand me, Julian," Emilia continued, her gaze remaining fixed on the sleeping infant, her tone turning into pure ice. "We will go home together. We will smile for your board of directors. We will play the perfect, happy family whenever Sofia Vance is watching. But the moment the door closes behind us, you do not exist to me. You are a ghost living in my hallway."
Julian swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding slowly. "Whatever you need. Whatever it takes."
Emilia looked up then, her eyes locking onto his with terrifying clarity.
"And Julian?" she added softly, a dangerous, cold smile touching the edge of her lips. "I kept the courier's original envelope from the penthouse. The genetic test wasn't the only document inside. There was an autopsy report from five years ago. David Vance didn't die of chemotherapy complications. He died of arsenic poisoning."
May you like
Julian froze, the breath trapped in his throat.
Emilia gently rocked the baby against her chest, her eyes blazing with vengeance. "Sofia thinks she owns us. But by the time I am done, she will spend the rest of her life in a cage. Now close the door... and help me plan."
