Chapter 6 - The Long Night
Three weeks later, the snow began to fall over White Plains, dusting the leafless trees and the sleek black cars parked outside the residential tower with a fine layer of white powder.
Inside her apartment, Elena sat by the window in a comfortable armchair, looking out at the glittering city lights in the distance. Her phone rested on the side table. For the past twenty-one days, Roman had maintained a respectful, agonizing distance. He hadn't forced his way into her apartment. He hadn't called her frantically or demanded answers.
Instead, he had simply existed in her periphery like an immovable, protective fortress.
Every morning at 7:00 AM, a delivery arrived at her door from her favorite organic bakery in the city—warm croissants, fresh fruit, and herbal tea formulated specifically for prenatal health. Every afternoon, her grocery deliveries were paid for and checked by Marco to ensure absolute safety. And every evening at dusk, she would look down from her window and see the black Maybach parked across the street, its engine idling quietly, Roman sitting inside keeping watch through the falling snow.
He was doing penance. In silence. The exact opposite of the arrogant man who had ordered her out of her room three months ago.
At 2:00 AM, the quiet rhythm of the night was shattered.
Elena woke up with a sharp, searing cramp tearing through her lower back. She gasped, gripping the armrests of her bed as a wave of intense heat radiated through her body. Her water broke just as she stood up.
Panic, cold and sharp, flared in her chest, but her training and innate composure took over. She reached for her phone on the nightstand, dialed Marco’s direct emergency line, and answered on the second ring.
"Marco," she panted, her voice tight with pain. "It's time."
"Understood, Mrs. Marino," Marco said, his voice instantly sharp and decisive. "We are coming up right now. Dr. Sterling has already been alerted and is meeting us at the private wing of White Plains Memorial Hospital."
Within thirty seconds, heavy, urgent footsteps echoed in the hallway outside her apartment door. But it wasn't Marco who burst through the door first—it was Roman.
He had a master key provided by the building management, and he threw the door open with a crash, his face pale with raw, unadulterated terror. He dropped his coat on the floor and rushed to her side, his large hands hovering over her as if he were afraid to break her.
"Elena," he breathed, his voice trembling violently. "Are you—is the baby—"
"My water broke, Roman," she managed to say through clenched teeth as another contraction hit, forcing her to lean heavily against his shoulder. "Get me to the car. Now."
Roman didn't hesitate. He scooped her up effortlessly into his arms, carrying her out of the apartment, down the private elevator, and straight into the back of the Maybach, where Marco was already holding the door open with the engine roaring.
The drive to the hospital was the longest twenty minutes of Roman’s life. He held Elena’s hand the entire way, his thumb stroking her knuckles while he muttered frantic, uncharacteristic prayers under his breath, begging whatever powers governed the universe to keep her and their child safe.
When they arrived at the hospital, a team of nurses and Dr. Sterling were waiting at the emergency entrance with a gurney.
May you like
"Get her to Delivery Room 4 immediately," Dr. Sterling ordered, her eyes sharp as she assessed Elena’s vitals. "Mr. Marino, you can scrub in, but if you pass out or cause any trouble, my orderlies will throw you out the window. Do you understand?"
"I understand," Roman rasped, never letting go of Elena’s hand as they wheeled her down the sterile, brightly lit corridor.
