Chapter 4 - The Safehouse in the Woods
The Lake Geneva estate was an isolated fortress hidden behind three miles of snow-laden pine trees and private iron gates. By the time the Suburban rolled beneath the grand portico, a heavy, wet Chicago snow had begun to fall, blurring the edges of the dark lake visible in the distance.
Grant Mercer was out of the car before it had even fully stopped, opening the rear door and scanning the tree line with night-vision binoculars.
“Perimeter is clear. Electronic sweeps show no active bugs,” Grant reported, stepping aside.
Adrian stepped out first, immediately turning back to offer his hand to Maya. This time, she didn't pull away; her body ached with a bone-deep exhaustion that made every movement feel like wading through wet cement. She slid her hand into his, letting him lift her out of the vehicle and guide her up the stone steps.
The interior of the mansion was vast, warm, and silent. A massive stone fireplace crackled in the center of the grand foyer, casting dancing golden light across soaring timber ceilings.
Yet, despite the warmth, Maya felt a sharp, sickening cramp clench low in her abdomen.
She stopped dead on the Persian rug, her breath hitching.
Adrian felt her weight shift instantly. He dropped his coat, turning back to catch her as her knees buckled.
“Maya?” His voice was sharp with terror. “Maya, what is it?”
“My stomach,” she gasped, clutching her side as a wave of intense, blinding pressure rolled through her body. It wasn't just the baby shifting this time. It was a rhythmic, iron-grip tightening that wrapped around her lower back and refused to let go.
Grant stepped forward instantly, his professional detachment slipping. “Boss, is she—?”
“Get the house doctor here now!” Adrian roared, sweeping Maya up into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all. He didn't wait for Grant to answer; he carried her up the grand staircase two steps at a time, heading straight for the master suite on the second floor.
“Adrian,” Maya groaned, burying her face against his chest, her fingers gripping the lapels of his suit jacket. “The baby... it’s too early. She’s only eight months—”
“She’s coming when she’s ready, and you are going to be fine,” Adrian repeated, his voice fierce, almost commanding, as if he could order reality to bend to his will. He kicked open the bedroom door and laid her gently down on the massive king-sized bed.
Minutes later, Dr. Thomas, a former trauma surgeon on permanent retainer for the Cole family, burst through the door with a silver medical case in hand.
“Clear the room,” Dr. Thomas ordered without looking up, snapping on latex gloves.
“I’m staying,” Adrian said, his tone absolute, rooted in the floorboards.
“Adrian, please,” Maya breathed, tears spilling over her lashes as another contraction seized her body, wracking her frame with pain.
May you like
Adrian ignored the doctor, dropping to his knees beside the bed. He caught her trembling hand in his, interlacing his fingers with hers so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered against her knuckles, pressing a desperate, fierce kiss to her skin. “Look at me, Maya. Look at me. Breathe.”
