Small sighs rise around me, the tension visibly easing.
“And the baby?” Aunt Akiko asks shakily.
I clench my hands, pressing the fists against my brow.Jesus, say it’s fine, say it’s fine, say it’s fine.
“The baby is fine as well.”
I lift my head. “Thank you, doctor.”
He nods once. “Just doing my job. Dr. Silverman will be coming in the morning, as requested.”
“Can I see Grace now?” I ask.
“And me,” Grandmother says.
“Only one person at a time, no more than three visitors a day and ten minutes each. She’s sleeping right now. She’ll be sleeping until the morning. She’s going to need plenty of rest. Absolutely no stress or upsetting her. No physical exertion, either.”
I nod, then carefully open the door and step inside her room in the private wing at the hospital. The Huxleys donated a huge sum of money to construct this part of the wing—reserved for oncology and wealthy and famous clients who require discretion.
The room is beautifully decorated with sunny yellow walls and fresh sunflowers in giant vases. My wife lies on a huge bed, needles in the back of her right hand for a couple of IV drips.
I walk quietly toward her.She’s fine, my ass. Instead of protecting her head, she wrapped her arms around her belly. Little cuts and scrapes mar her face, especially on the high points of her cheeks and forehead. Her little freckles look exceptionally dark against the ghostly pallor of her skin.
Tenderly I hold the hands that shielded our baby from harm, and kiss the bruised and scraped knuckles. She doesn’t stir. Her breathing is so quiet and gentle, I have to put my ear over her chest for a sign that she’s alive—and with me.
The doctor said she would sleep through the night. She did her part. It’s time I do mine.
Chapter Fifty-One
Huxley
I return home to shower and change. The clothes remain stiff from Grace’s blood. I throw them into a bag to be burned. The shirt used to be my favorite, but not anymore. I’ll never get the image of the coppery stain out of my head. Or how quickly the blood flowed out of her.
I almost lost her. I won’t be making the same mistake again.
When I reach Nelson’s mansion, I’m fully clothed in a black three-piece bespoke suit and carrying the slim onyx cane every Huxley gets when we are born. The platinum knob has the coat of arms of the Huxleys, each wolf’s eye set off with a pigeon’s-blood ruby. On the side of the cane glints PIETAS ET UNITAS etched in silver. I’ve rarely pulled it out of its case in the closet, but then the world hasn’t really given me a reason to…until now.
Despite the late hour, every window in Nelson’s home blazes with light. Andreas’s Maybach crouches on the dark driveway like a wounded beast. My jaw tightens. The bastard never came to the hospital. Grace is his granddaughter, too.
I open the door and step inside. There’s no staff around, but then, Nelson and Karie seem to believe that as long as they show their true colors selectively, their reputation will remain intact.
As I get closer to the living room, I can hear raised voices. I slow my pace to hear what they plan to do to cover their ass.
“You have to help me!” Nelson’s plea has a tinge of desperation.
“How? You’ve shamed me, Nelson Emmanuel Webber. I couldn’t join the Huxleys. I had to wait around the corner like some stalker and eavesdrop on the doctor informing them of Grace’s condition!” Andreas thunders. “How am I going to face Catalina? No, no, forget her. How am I going to face Jeremiah on Monday when I go into the office? Or Prescott? How about Ares and the rest?”
“Why should you be worried? You didn’t do anything,” Karie says. “Grace just slipped.”
“Slipped?” Andreas says. “That’s not what I heard. Your idiot son pushed her!”
“I was just shooing a fly,” Mick says.
“Can you testify to that under oath, inside a courtroom?” Andreas demands.
“Wait, what do you mean?” Karie says.
“Do you honestly think the Huxleys will let this go? Theylivetheir family motto!” I can tell from the tone of voice that Andreas is seething.
