Chapter 12 - A Mother's Reckoning
The precinct waiting room was dead silent. The lead officer took one look at the flashing federal encryption logo stamped on the drive, then looked at Julian Thorne, whose knees were visibly trembling.
""Mr. Thorne,"" the officer said cautiously, stepping away from Damian. ""Is there something you forgot to mention in your statement?""
""It’s a bluff!"" Julian shrieked, backing toward the glass entrance. ""Arrest him! I am the head of legal affairs for Vance Enterprises! I will have all your badges by sunrise!""
""You won't have a law license by sunrise,"" Damian replied calmly.
The double doors of the surgical ward swung open, cutting the confrontation short. Dr. Alan Vance walked out, his surgical mask hanging around his neck, his hands covered in dried surgical antiseptic.
Clara forgot the police, forgot Julian, forgot the entire world. She sprinted toward Alan, her breath catching in her throat. ""Alan? Please... please tell me.""
Alan looked at Clara, then at Damian. A genuine, tired smile broke across his exhausted face. ""The valve reconstruction was a complete success. The patch held. Her vitals are solid, Clara. Daisy is resting in the recovery suite.""
Clara let out a sob of pure, unadulterated relief, falling to her knees and burying her face in her hands. The terror of five years of running, hiding in shadows, and waiting for her child to die finally broke like a storm cloud passing away.
Damian walked over, placing his hand gently on Clara’s shoulder, his touch protective and tender. He looked up at the officers.
""Take Thorne out of my sight,"" Damian commanded. ""And send a tactical squad to the Vance Manor. My mother will likely be attempting to board her private jet at the executive airfield within the hour.""
The lead officer gave a sharp nod to his partner. In seconds, the handcuffs that were meant for Damian snapped around Julian Thorne’s wrists.
""You can't do this! Damian! Eleanor will destroy us all!"" Julian screamed as he was dragged down the corridor toward the police cruisers, his polished shoes scuffing the floor.
Damian turned back to Clara. He knelt down beside her on the cold hospital tiles, his hand gently lifting her chin so her tear-stained eyes met his.
""It’s over, Clara,"" he whispered softly. ""I swear to you, the running is over.""
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""She’s safe?"" Clara asked, her voice trembling.
""She’s safe,"" Damian replied, a fierce light burning in his dark eyes. ""Now, come with me. Our daughter is waking up.""
