Chapter 6 - THE RACE AGAINST DEATH
Red and blue lights flooded the loading dock, casting frantic, spinning shadows across the frosted warehouse floor. EMTs poured through the shattered freezer door, their boots slipping on the ice. They found a multi-billionaire kneeling in a pool of frozen blood, clutching an unconscious woman and two screaming premature infants to his chest, his jaw set in a mask of pure, terrifying determination.
"Take the babies," Julian ordered, his voice cracking with exhaustion as the paramedics rushed forward. "Keep them warm. She’s hemorrhaging. Her core temp is practically non-existent. Move!"
The chaotic blur of the next hour was etched into Julian’s memory like acid. He refused to leave her side. He rode in the back of the ambulance, his hand tightly gripping Grace’s icy fingers as the paramedics pumped her full of warmed IV fluids and fought to stabilize her flatlining heart rate. The twins were secured in portable incubators, incredibly tiny but stubbornly alive.
At Detroit General Hospital, a swarm of trauma surgeons descended on them the moment the doors burst open. They ripped Grace from Julian’s grip, rushing her down the blinding white corridors toward emergency surgery.
Julian stood alone in the chaotic trauma bay, covered in blood, amniotic fluid, and frost. He was shivering, though he hardly felt the cold. His mind was a dangerous, hyper-focused weapon.
A timid nurse approached him with a warm blanket. "Sir? You need to be examined for hypothermia—"
"Where are the police?" Julian interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, carrying a lethal, quiet authority.
"They're... they're taking statements in the lobby, sir. But you really must—"
Julian didn't wait. He stalked down the hallway, the blanket falling from his shoulders. He found two bewildered detectives holding clipboards near the vending machines.
"You're investigating the Bennett case," Julian stated. It wasn't a question.
"Yes, sir. Are you the man who called it in? Mr. Vance?"
"I am." Julian stepped into their personal space, his blue eyes blazing with a cold, absolute fury. "I want a warrant for Derek Bennett's arrest. Now. Not tomorrow. Not in an hour. Now."
"Sir, we need evidence. A husband locking his wife in a freezer is a massive accusation—"
"I have the security footage," Julian snarled. "I have the thermal logs showing a manual override from his personal IP address. I have the audio recording of the phone call he made to lure her there, pulled from his company's localized server. He owes the Falcone syndicate four hundred thousand dollars, and he took out a triple-indemnity accidental death policy on his pregnant wife three days ago."
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The detectives stared at him in stunned silence. Julian had done their entire job in the span of thirty seconds.
"I am sending the files to your precinct chief now," Julian said, pulling out a sleek, blood-smeared satellite phone. "If Derek Bennett is not in handcuffs by sunrise, I will buy this city's police department and fire every single one of you. Am I clear?"
