Chapter 2 - The Fortress Wing
The rear doors of the armored SUV flew open into the bright, sterile warmth of the Swedish Medical Center underground surgical bay.
Before the tires had even stopped spinning, Dr. Evelyn Vance—a formidable woman in dark blue scrubs flanked by four pediatric specialists—was stepping toward the vehicle with a high-tech medical gurney.
"Placental stress! Fetal heart rates are spiking!" Dr. Vance shouted over the hum of the emergency ventilation units. "Get her onto the gurney now! Prepare two units of O-negative and charge the NICU incubator units!"
Lucian didn't wait for the paramedics. He leaned into the vehicle, effortlessly lifting me into his arms once more. His broad chest was a solid wall against my shaking body as he carefully transferred me onto the gurney.
"Lucian..." I gasped, clutching his coat sleeve. "Don't let them take them... please..."
"I am standing right outside the surgical doors, Ava," Lucian promised, his dark eyes burning with absolute conviction. "Nobody enters this floor without my personal authorization."
They wheeled me rapidly down the private corridor. Heavy double doors slammed shut behind us, cutting off the noise of the basement.
Overhead, the fluorescent lights blurred into streaky trails of white. Oxygen masks were fitted over my face, IV needles pressed gently into the veins of my left arm, and the rhythmic, terrifying beep-beep-beep of three fetal heart monitors filled the sterile air.
"Mrs. Bennett," Dr. Vance said, her voice calm but urgent as she positioned an ultrasound wand over my swollen stomach. "You are experiencing severe premature contractions brought on by acute emotional shock and physical distress. The good news is that your cervix is still closed. The babies are in distress, but we can stop this labor if we act right now."
"Please..." I wept behind the plastic mask. "Save them..."
"Inject twenty milligrams of terbutaline," Dr. Vance ordered her team. "Start the magnesium sulfate drip immediately."
As the cold medication surged into my bloodstream, the violent spasms in my uterus began to slow, softening from white-hot knives into a dull, heavy ache.
Suddenly, a loud, crashing thud echoed from the corridor outside the surgical suite.
"You have no authority to block me!" a familiar, arrogant voice screamed from the hallway.
Nathan.
My body instantly went rigid. The fetal heart monitors spiked again, chiming with sharp alarm tones.
"Dr. Vance," the nurse said nervously, looking at the door. "Security is reporting an altercation at the wing checkpoint."
Through the frosted glass panel of the surgical bay doors, I saw shadows moving. Nathan Drake, dressed in his thousands-of-dollars tailored suit, was trying to force his way past two private security officers. Behind him stood three men carrying heavy leather briefcases—his top corporate litigators.
"Ava!" Nathan’s voice slammed through the doors. "I know you’re in there! Open this door right now! You are illegally withholding my biological children! I have a court order signed by Judge Miller granting me immediate custody rights!"
"Mrs. Bennett, try to remain calm," Dr. Vance warned, watching the monitors. "Your pressure is spiking!"
Before Nathan’s attorneys could take another step toward the surgical handle, a shadow fell over them.
Lucian Blackwood stepped into the corridor.
He did not raise his arms. He did not raise his voice. He simply stopped walking, stepping into the center of the hallway like an immovable cliff.
"Nathan Drake," Lucian said, his deep voice carrying a terrifying, measured resonance that caused every lawyer in the hall to freeze. "You are currently trespassing on private property owned entirely by Blackwood Enterprises."
Nathan pulled himself up straight, adjusting his silk tie, though a flicker of genuine shock crossed his pale face.
"Blackwood?" Nathan stammered, stepping back slightly before trying to regain his arrogant posture. "Mr. Blackwood... this is a private family matter. My ex-wife fled our divorce settlement carrying my legal heirs—"
"Your ex-wife fled a glass office where you abandoned her with a few hundred dollars after five years of service," Lucian interrupted coldly. "And those children do not belong to an heir-hunting coward who threw her into the rain."
Nathan’s chief attorney stepped forward, holding up a white document. "Mr. Blackwood, with all due respect, we have an emergency custody injunction issued by the county family court—"
Lucian didn't even look at the lawyer. He reached into his coat, pulled out a satellite phone, and pressed a single button.
"Marcus," Lucian spoke into the receiver. "Execute the short-sell order on Drake Development shares. Terminate their credit line with Union First Bank. And notify the State Building Inspector that we are requesting a structural audit on the Eastside Tower project immediately."
Nathan’s phone in his pocket began to ring frantically. Then his lead attorney’s phone rang. Then the second attorney’s phone rang.
Nathan pulled out his device, his face turning the color of wet chalk as he read the incoming financial alerts.
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"You... you can't do this!" Nathan gasped, his voice cracking into panic. "That’s my entire construction division!"
"I haven't even started yet, Nathan," Lucian said, taking one step forward into Nathan’s personal space. "Leave this hospital within sixty seconds, or I will buy your legal firm and fire every attorney standing behind you."
