Chapter 6 - MIDNIGHT AT THE ER
Three weeks passed, during which Elena refused every registered letter, every floral delivery, and every personal envoy sent by Hartwell Enterprises. She moved into a quiet rhythm in her small Queens apartment, focusing every ounce of her remaining energy on baby Rose.
Then, on a bitterly cold Tuesday night in late November, the nightmare struck.
Rose woke up at 1:00 AM burning with fever. Her small chest heaved with shallow, raspy breaths, and her tiny forehead was scorching hot. Panic seized Elena like ice water. Bundling the crying baby in layers of blankets, Elena ran out into the icy drizzle, desperately trying to hail a taxi on the deserted Queens avenue.
None stopped.
Desperate and sobbing, Elena was about to sprint the eight blocks toward the nearest public hospital when a sleek black SUV screeched to a halt at the curb. The door flew open, and Julian jumped out into the rain.
He didn't have an umbrella. His hair was soaked, his eyes were ringed with sleepless exhaustion, and he looked nothing like the untouchable titan of Wall Street. For the past twenty days, he had been parked two blocks away every single night, watching over her building from afar just to make sure she was safe.
"Elena! What’s wrong?" Julian yelled, rushing toward her.
"She won't stop crying... she can't breathe right!" Elena cried out, her pride evaporating in the face of her child's danger. "Julian, she’s burning up!"
Julian didn't hesitate for a second. He stripped off his heavy wool coat, wrapped it securely over Elena and the baby, and bundled them both into the back seat of the SUV. "Elmhurst Memorial! Step on it!" he barked to his driver before climbing in beside them.
Throughout the harrowing drive, Julian sat on the floor of the vehicle beside Elena's knees, holding a cool, wet cloth to Rose's burning forehead. His hand shook, but his voice was infinitely soft as he leaned over his daughter.
"Daddy’s here, sweetheart. I'm right here. You're going to be okay. I promise you, you're going to be okay."
When they arrived at the emergency room, Julian didn't use his wealth to shout or demand private suites. Instead, he carried the diaper bag, held Elena up when her legs gave out from sheer panic, and stood vigil outside the pediatric intensive care cubicle for six agonizing hours while doctors treated Rose for acute bronchiolitis.
At dawn, the pediatrician finally stepped out. "The fever has broken. The nebulizer cleared her airways. She’s going to make a full recovery, Mom and Dad."
Elena sank into the plastic hospital chair and buried her face in her hands, weeping tears of pure relief.
May you like
A moment later, she felt a gentle, hesitant warmth cover her trembling shoulders. Julian knelt on the dirty linoleum floor in front of her, offering her a paper cup of hot tea and a dry handkerchief.
"Drink," he whispered softly, his own eyes bloodshot and red. "You haven't had a sip of water in eight hours."
