Chapter 5 - The Confrontation
For two hours, I sat on the hard vinyl chairs outside Operating Room 3, listening to the muffled alarms of medical monitors and the hushed, frantic instructions of the surgical team.
Every minute felt like an eternity in hell. I prayed—something I hadn't done since I was a child—promising whatever god was listening that I would burn my wealth, my company, and my entire legacy to the ground if it meant Rachel and our baby survived this night.
At 5:14 PM, the double doors finally swung open.
Dr. Sarah Lin stepped out, taking off her surgical mask. Her face was exhausted, her green scrubs stained with blood, but her eyes held a spark of weary relief.
"Mr. Dawson?" she called out.
I sprang up from my chair. "Doctor? How are they?!"
"Your wife is an remarkably strong woman," Dr. Lin said, a faint smile breaking across her tired face. "We managed to stop the internal hemorrhaging and repair the placental tear. She is heavily sedated and recovering in the ICU, but she is stable."
I let out a ragged, sob of relief, covering my face with my hands. "And the baby?"
"A little girl," Dr. Lin answered softly. "She weighs just four pounds, two ounces, and her lungs are underdeveloped due to the premature delivery. She’s currently in an incubator in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. The next forty-eight hours are critical, but she is fighting, Mr. Dawson. She has her mother's strength."
"Thank you..." I choked out, grabbing Dr. Lin’s hand. "Thank you, Doctor."
"Mr. Dawson," Dr. Lin added, her voice turning firm and serious. "I have already filed a mandatory report with the NYPD and Child Protective Services. The chemical burns on your wife's hands and the toxic substances in her blood system are clear evidence of severe criminal abuse. The police are on their way."
"Good," I said, my voice suddenly turning cold as iron. "Because I have one more stop to make before they arrive."
I turned to Gareth, who was standing behind me. "Where is my mother?"
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"She’s at the St. Regis Hotel in Midtown, sir," Gareth answered instantly. "Attending the annual Dawson Family Foundation Gala."
"Get the car," I said, walking toward the exit. "It's time to pay my mother a visit."
