Chapter 6
Julian’s breath hitched on the other end of the line. Even through three thousand miles of satellite connection, he could sense the strange, chilling finality in his wife's voice.
"Sera... what aren't you telling me?" Julian asked, his voice tightening with sudden, sharp anxiety. "Why does your voice sound like that? Did something happen during the surgery?"
"No, Julian. Dr. Vance was very efficient," Seraphina replied, her eyes locked onto Doreen’s trembling figure. "Just come straight to the hospital when you land. Do not stop at your family's estate. Do not call your father. Come straight to room eight-twelve."
"I’m leaving the tarmac right now. I love you, Sera. Kiss the twins for me."
"I love you, Julian. Fly safe."
Seraphina ended the call and tossed the phone onto the nightstand. The porcelain lamp beside it hummed softly under the bright morning sunlight.
She turned her gaze back to Nolan Pierce. "Chief Pierce."
"Yes, Madam Vale?"
"Call the city transit authority," Seraphina commanded, her voice crisp and authoritative. "I want the private helipad on the hospital roof cleared. Julian’s flight will land at Teterboro at two o'clock. Have two armored Suburbans waiting at the private hangar to escort him directly to this entrance."
"Consider it done, Ma'am," Nolan said, turning on his heel and barking orders into his shoulder radio as he stepped out into the hallway.
Doreen sank against the wall, her hands clawing into her silk skirt. "You think you can keep him away from us? Julian is my son! When he finds out you brought armed gangsters into this room, he will divorce you before the day is out!"
Seraphina let out a short, quiet laugh—a sound that held no humor, only the terrifying confidence of someone who had ruled a criminal empire since she was twenty years old.
"You still don't understand Julian, do you, Doreen?" Seraphina said softly. "Julian doesn't love your money. He walked away from your private equity firm three years ago to build his own architectural practice with his bare hands. The only reason he kept speaking to you was because he believed you were his family."
She gestured slightly with her hand.
The two Vale enforcers stepped forward, their leather shoes silent on the floor. Without uttering a word, they gripped Doreen and Callie by their elbows, hoisting them off the floor with effortless, terrifying strength.
"Let go of me!" Callie screamed, thrashing against the guard's grip. "You can't hold us hostage!"
"You are not hostages, Callie," Seraphina said, reaching into the bedside drawer and pulling out a silver pen. "You are guests of the Vale organization until my husband arrives. You will sit in the adjoining waiting room. You will drink water. You will not touch a phone. And if either of you screams again, my men will zip-tie your mouths shut."
"Seraphina, please!" Doreen wailed, the arrogant veneer completely stripped away, replaced by the pathetic whimper of a trapped socialite. "Think of the family reputation! If the press finds out—"
"The press writes whatever I pay them to write, Doreen," Seraphina cut her off, her grey eyes burning with pitiless light. "Now get out of my sight. My children are trying to sleep."
The heavy doors clicked shut behind them, dragging their muffled protests into the hallway.
The room fell into a deep, peaceful quiet.
Seraphina looked down at her hands. The adrenaline was finally beginning to fade, leaving behind the heavy, throbbing ache of her C-section wound. She leaned over the side of the bed, her fingers gently brushing across little Miles’s soft cheek. The newborn stirred, yawning, his tiny hands stretching out from the blanket. Beside him, Ivy let out a small, contented sigh, sleeping soundly beneath the warm morning sun.
May you like
Seraphina closed her eyes, resting her forehead against the cool acrylic rim of the bassinet.
"Nobody touches you," she whispered to the empty room. "Nobody."
