Chapter 5 - The Hospital RoomWhile Roman was screaming into his phone in an empty kitchen, miles away at Northwestern Memorial Hospital overlooking Lake Michigan, I was lying comfortably in a private maternity suite as a team of nurses checked my vitals.
My water had broken at 6:30 AM, right as Marcus and I were finishing the final paperwork for the federal asset freeze. The stress, the adrenaline, and perhaps a stubborn determination not to let Roman ruin one more moment of my life had sent my daughter into an early, dramatic entrance.
Marcus sat in a chair beside the bed, sipping a cup of hospital coffee and grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Well,” Marcus chuckled, checking his tablet. “According to our banking alerts, Roman tried to swipe his corporate card at a downtown bakery thirty minutes ago. The terminal rejected it for suspected fraudulent activity. He apparently had to wash dishes to pay for a stale croissant.”
I laughed, resting a hand on my damp forehead. “Please tell me someone took a picture.”
“Unfortunately no,” Marcus smiled. “But my contacts at the federal prosecutor’s office tell me that Roman is currently trying to book emergency meetings with three different high-priced criminal defense attorneys. Unfortunately for him, all his retainer accounts are currently sitting in our frozen escrow vault.”
The hospital door swung open, and my obstetrician, Dr. Harrison, walked in with a warm, reassuring smile.
“Well, Mrs. Carter, contractions are spacing out nicely, and dilation is progressing right on schedule,” Dr. Harrison announced, checking my chart. “Looks like you’re going to have a very healthy, very stubborn little girl by this afternoon.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I said, taking a deep, steady breath.
Just then, my phone—which I had placed on the bedside table—lit up violently.
The caller ID flashed: Roman Carter.
Marcus reached over, his thumb hovering above the screen to decline the call. “Want me to block him?”
“No,” I said, sitting up slightly and holding out my hand. “Let him talk to the voicemail of a woman he can no longer control.”
I watched the screen ring until it went silent. Then, a text message notification popped up from Roman:
Savannah, where are you? Please, pick up the phone. We need to talk about this. This is insane. Come home.
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I didn't reply. I simply locked the phone, turned it face down on the tray table, and looked out the window at the brilliant, sunlit waters of Lake Michigan.
The storm was raging outside, but inside, I had never felt more completely at peace.
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