Chapter 4 - The Delivery Room Fortress
Three weeks later, I went into labor.
I was checked into the VIP maternity wing of the best hospital in the city under a private alias. The hospital security was tight, and my personal security contractor—paid for by my consulting trust—stood outside the door.
Grant, out on bail and drowning in legal debt, had somehow found out I was admitted. A desperate narcissist losing his audience will always try to force his way back onto the stage. He showed up at the hospital, demanding to be let into the delivery room, screaming that he had a right to see his child.
He made it exactly ten feet into the lobby before my security detail intercepted him.
"I am her husband!" Grant roared, his face purple with rage, his expensive suit wrinkled and unwashed. "You can't keep me away from my family!"
May you like
The hospital administrator simply handed a copy of the active restraining order to the on-site police officers. Grant was thrown against the wall, handcuffed for the second time in a month, and arrested for violating a direct protective order.
While he was being processed in a cold, concrete holding cell, I safely and peacefully gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy. The room was quiet, filled only with the soft humming of the machines and the overwhelming, fierce love I felt for my children. There was no chaos. There was no Grant. There was only absolute, untouchable peace.
