Chapter 4 - The Delivery
I hung up the phone.
Four days later, on a bright, freezing Tuesday morning, my water broke.
I was not alone. I was not afraid. I did not deliver my child in a crowded hospital room while a toxic mother-in-law gave me unsolicited advice and a useless husband checked his watch.
I delivered my son in the VIP maternity suite at Mass General, surrounded by the best doctors in the city. Greer held my hand on the left side, and a quiet, fiercely protective security detail stood outside my door to ensure that the man weeping in the lobby never made it past the elevators.
When they placed my son on my chest, he let out a loud, healthy cry. I pressed my lips to his forehead, feeling the impossibly soft weight of him against my skin. I placed the little blue knit hat with the crooked ear on his head.
"You're perfectly safe," I whispered to my boy.
Downstairs, Adrian Whitfield was being escorted off the hospital property by police, completely bankrupt, publicly disgraced, and permanently severed from the empire his mother had tried to steal.
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He had called me too soft for motherhood.
But as I held the sole heir to a reclaimed dynasty in my arms, I knew I possessed the exact kind of steel required to protect him. And I had never felt stronger in my life.
