Chapter 11 - THE STORM BEFORE THE DAWN
Two weeks later, the weather turned violently.
A late-autumn nor'easter battered the coast of Massachusetts, hurling sheets of freezing rain against the reinforced glass of the Moretti estate.
Inside the master bedroom, Isabella woke up with a sharp, sudden contraction that made her breath catch in her throat.
She squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the edge of the velvet sheets.
Not yet, she thought. The due date isn't for another week.
A second contraction hit—sharper, closer together.
She turned on the bedside lamp and shook Adrien’s shoulder.
"Adrien... wake up."
Adrien was awake instantly, his eyes snapping open with the hyper-vigilance of a man who had spent years sleeping with a weapon under his pillow.
"Bella? What is it?"
"It's time," she gasped, gripping his forearm. "The baby is coming."
In less than thirty seconds, the entire estate swung into motion.
Within two minutes, Marcus had the private medical transport idling in the heated underground garage, and Dr. Harrison—the family’s private obstetrician—was en route to the private maternity wing at St. Vincent’s Hospital.
Adrien held Isabella’s hand the entire drive through the howling storm, his face pale, his thumb stroking her knuckles in a desperate rhythm.
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"I'm right here," he repeated, like a mantra. "I'm right here with you."
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