Chapter 4 - The Sound of Silence
Julian didn't rise slowly. He moved like a coiled spring unleashed, launching himself off the hospital floor.
He didn't care about the cameras in the hallway. He didn't care that his father was standing right there. He gripped Victoria by the lapels of her dry designer coat and slammed her backward against the concrete wall of the corridor.
"Julian!" Harold Vance gasped, dropping his handkerchief in terror. "Have you lost your mind?! That is your mother!"
"Where is the bruise on your hands, Mother?" Julian growled, his face inches from Victoria’s. His eyes were completely bloodshot, pupils dilated with primal fury. "You told me you tried to catch her! But there’s a footprint on her chest! A woman’s pointed heel! Exactly like the shoes you wore to the party tonight!"
Victoria’s eyes narrowed, but she didn't flinch. Her aristocratic poise remained chillingly unbreakable. She stared right into her son’s murderous eyes with cold disdain. "She attacked me, Julian," Victoria hissed in a venomous whisper. "She grabbed me by the throat, accused me of trying to steal you away. I pushed her off in self-defense. If she fell, it was divine providence. That street girl was never meant to hold our legacy. And neither is that defective creature in her womb."
"You monster," Julian whispered, his fingers tightening until the fabric of her coat ripped at the seams. "If she dies... if my son dies... I swear to God, Mother, prison will be a sanctuary compared to what I will do to you."
Before Victoria could answer, the electronic doors of Room 402 slid open with a sharp hydraulic hiss.
A tall man in bloody surgical scrubs, wearing a lead apron and a clear face shield covered in crimson droplets, walked out. It was Dr. Michael Sterling, the chief of obstetrics and a lifelong acquaintance of the Vance family.
Julian let go of Victoria instantly. He turned to the doctor, his entire body trembling so hard his knees nearly buckled. "Michael... tell me. Tell me they're alive."
Dr. Sterling pulled down his surgical mask. His face was gray with exhaustion and grief. He looked at Julian, then flicked his eyes nervously toward Victoria and Harold, before looking back at Julian.
"We got her heart restarted, Julian," Dr. Sterling said quietly. "Clara is alive. But she lost an immense amount of blood. Her uterus ruptured from the impact. We had to perform an immediate emergency classical hysterotomy to extract the fetus."
Julian felt the room spinning. "*The fetus?* Michael, is my son alive?! Can he breathe?!"
Dr. Sterling swallowed hard. "He was without oxygen for at least seven minutes before we could cut him out. His APGAR score at birth was zero. He had no pulse. He was completely unresponsive."
A strangled gasp escaped Julian’s throat. He stumbled backward, his hand catching the metal handrail along the corridor wall to keep from collapsing.
Behind him, Victoria closed her eyes, exhaling a quiet, imperceptible sigh of satisfaction. "A tragedy," she murmured smoothly. "A terrible, terrible tragedy. We will arrange a private burial immediately, Michael."
"Wait," Dr. Sterling said sharply, his voice cutting through the heavy air.
Julian’s head snapped up.
"The neonatal resuscitation team didn't give up," Dr. Sterling continued, his eyes locking onto Julian’s with fierce intensity. "They performed chest compressions for twelve consecutive minutes. They intubated him and gave three rounds of epinephrine directly into his umbilical vein."
The hallway went dead silent. The only sound was the distant hum of the hospital ventilation system.
"And?" Julian begged, tears streaming down his bruised face. "And?!"
"Ten seconds ago, his heart began to beat," Dr. Sterling whispered. "Fifty beats per minute. It’s critically low, and he is not breathing on his own. He is currently being transferred to the Level IV Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. The next twenty-four hours will determine if he has suffered irreversible brain damage... or if he will survive at all."
Julian let out a broken, guttural roar—half agony, half savage hope. He didn't say another word to his parents. He pushed past Dr. Sterling and sprinted down the corridor toward the neonatal wing.
Victoria Vance stood rooted to the spot. The mask of aristocratic perfection cracked for the briefest instant, revealing a terrifying flash of pure rage. Her hands clenched into tight fists inside her coat pockets.
"Harold," Victoria whispered, not looking at her husband.
"Yes, my dear?" Harold asked, shivering.
May you like
"Call our head of security at the penthouse," Victoria commanded, her voice dropping into an icy register. "Tell him the server room on the forty-fourth floor must experience a catastrophic electrical fire within the next thirty minutes. Not a single second of footage from that rooftop pool must survive until morning."
***
