Chapter 3 - The First Breath
Time doesn't exist in a hospital waiting room. It warps and stretches, turning minutes into agonizing hours.
I paced the length of the hallway until my expensive leather shoes scuffed the polished floor. My mind violently replayed the last eight months. Why had we signed those divorce papers? It was a slow death by a thousand cuts. My obsession with expanding the Sterling empire, the endless business trips, the media scrutiny. Elena was an artist, a woman of warmth and light, and I had dragged her into my cold, calculating world until her light began to dim.
The divorce was supposed to set her free. That final night, fueled by grief and a bottle of scotch, we had collapsed into each other. It was a desperate, beautiful mistake. And the next morning, she was gone. No note, no forwarding address. She just vanished.
"Mr. Sterling?"
I spun around. The surgeon was standing there. He had removed his mask. He looked exhausted.
My heart stopped beating. "Tell me."
"It was close," he breathed heavily. "Very close. But we stabilized Elena's heart. She is in a medically induced coma to allow her body to recover from the trauma. I can't make promises about when she will wake up, but she is alive."
I let out a ragged breath, leaning against the wall as the strength left my legs. "And the baby?"
A small, genuine smile touched the corners of the doctor's mouth. "Thirty-four weeks is early, but she's a fighter. She is currently in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Mr. Sterling... you have a daughter."
A daughter.
The words short-circuited my brain. The ruthless CEO, the man who destroyed rival companies with a stroke of a pen, vanished. I followed a nurse down a maze of corridors until the air grew warmer, the lights dimmer.
We entered the NICU. Amidst the hum of monitors and the soft beeping of life-saving machinery, the nurse led me to a small, transparent incubator.
I looked down.
She was impossibly tiny. Wires and tubes monitored her delicate vitals, but through the tangle of medical tape, I saw her. She had a mop of dark hair, just like mine, but the delicate curve of her nose and her porcelain skin were all Elena. She was perfect. She was breathing.
I reached my hand through the incubator port. My index finger was thicker than her entire arm. Slowly, instinctively, her tiny hand opened and her impossibly small fingers wrapped tightly around my pinky.
A tear broke free, trailing hot down my cheek, ruining my stoic reputation forever.
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"I'm here," I whispered to the glass, making a vow that would alter the course of my life forever. "Daddy's here. And I am never letting either of you go again."
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