Chapter 3 - THE DOUBLE DOORS OF LAKESHIRE
Twenty minutes later, a sleek black armored SUV slammed to a halt against the curb outside the emergency entrance of Lakeshore Community Hospital. The vehicle’s tires screeched against the wet pavement as cold Chicago rain poured from the night sky.
Dominic burst through the sliding glass entrance doors of the hospital, his tailored suit soaking wet, water dripping from his dark hair down the collar of his black shirt. His heavy black coat billowed behind him as his leather boots squeaked sharply against the pristine white linoleum floor of the lobby.
He ignored the reception desk entirely, following the glowing overhead directional signs that pointed toward the elevators: Maternity & Neonatal Care - 4th Floor.
When the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, the sterile smell of antiseptic, rubbing alcohol, and floor wax hit him instantly. The hallway was brightly lit under humming fluorescent tubes, clean and quiet compared to the roaring storm outside.
Then he heard it.
A agonizing, raw cry of agony echoed through the corridor, originating from behind a set of double swinging doors marked Labor & Delivery - Authorized Personnel Only.
Dominic’s blood ran cold. He recognized that voice instantly.
He lunged forward, moving toward the double doors with the singular momentum of a freight train.
"Sir! Sir, stop!"
A Young Nurse in dark blue scrubs stepped sharply out of a side station, extending her arms to block his path directly in front of the restricted doors. She took one look at his wet, towering frame, his rain-soaked black suit, and the terrifying, desperate intensity in his dark eyes, and swallowed hard.
"You can't go through there!" the Young Nurse insisted, her voice shaking slightly as she stood her ground. "That is an active delivery room!"
Dominic froze two inches from her, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, his chest rising and falling in deep, ragged breaths.
"I need to get inside," Dominic demanded, his voice a low, desperate rumble.
"Relationship to patient?" the Young Nurse asked quickly, reaching for her security badge.
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Dominic froze. The simple, standard question hung in the sterile air like an anchor. Relationship to patient. He had loved Hannah more than life itself, yet he had let her walk into the shadows eight months ago. Was he her husband? Her partner? The father of the child crying out in pain on the other side of the glass?
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
