Chapter 9 - Shadows in the Maternity Ward
Out in the third-floor hallway, the emergency red lights cast long, ominous shadows against the linoleum. Two private security guards stationed outside my door drew their radios.
"Control, this is Post Three. We have a power failure on the west wing. Confirm backup status."
Static hiss came through the receiver, followed by a muffled thud.
Before the guard could repeat the call, the stairwell fire door burst open. Grant emerged, dressed in hospital scrubs over his dark clothes, a medical mask pulled below his chin. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and wild. In his right hand, the dull gray steel of a handgun caught the faint red emergency lighting.
"Step aside!" Grant barked, raising the weapon.
The lead guard reached for his holster, but Grant lunged forward with brutal momentum, striking the guard across the temple with the heavy frame of the pistol. The guard collapsed, groaning. The second guard lunged, tackling Grant against the wall, but Grant slammed his elbow into the man’s throat, knocking the breath from his lungs before kicking him down onto the floor.
Inside the room, the heavy deadbolt rattled.
"Mara!" Arthur shouted, stepping in front of my bed as Julian rushed to block the door.
The lock gave way with a violent kick. The heavy wooden door slammed against the wall, and Grant Callahan stood framed in the doorway, chest heaving, the gun aimed straight at Arthur’s chest.
"Move, old man," Grant spat, saliva flying from his lips. "Move, or I swear to God I’ll put a bullet through your heart before the cops even reach the lobby."
"Grant," I said, my voice cutting through the panic with chilling clarity.
May you like
I pushed myself up onto the bed, ignoring the sharp stab of another contraction ripping through my abdomen. My gaze locked onto the man I had lived with for seven years—the man who had sworn to protect me, who had slept in my bed, who had fathered my children, and who now stood before me like a deranged stranger holding a weapon.
"Look at yourself," I said, my voice steady, freezing the air in the room. "You were a CEO. You were a Callahan. And now you’re standing in a maternity ward with a stolen gun, threatening doctors and lawyers like a common thug."
