Chapter 7 - Four Seats to Grand Cayman
Nobody in my hospital room spoke for several seconds.
The itinerary on Mara's tablet looked absurdly ordinary.
Four names.
A departure time.
A tail number.
A private terminal in Miami.
It was the kind of document wealthy people used to make travel feel effortless.
Except two of the listed passengers weighed less than four pounds combined.
"They cannot fly," I said.
My voice sounded distant even to me.
"Liam and Chloe cannot leave the NICU."
Mara answered carefully.
"Not safely."
"Then why are their names on a flight?"
Jonah turned the page toward the camera.
"There is a medical transport company listed here."
Dr. Hart, who had returned after being called by compliance, stepped closer to the tablet.
"What company?"
"Northstar Pediatric Transfer."
Her face changed.
"I know them."
My stomach tightened.
"Are they legitimate?"
"Yes."
"Would they transport babies this premature?"
"Only with a physician's approval and a receiving facility confirmed."
Mara leaned forward.
"Could someone arrange it fraudulently?"
Dr. Hart hesitated.
"Not easily."
I almost laughed.
Easy had stopped being the standard for Dominic's behavior.
"What receiving facility is listed?" she asked.
Jonah read from the itinerary.
"Cayman International Children's Centre."
Everett shook his head.
"That is not a neonatal transfer destination we use."
Dr. Hart pulled out her phone.
"I am calling Northstar."
Mara stopped her.
"Ask only whether a transfer request exists."
"Why?"
"Because if Dominic believes the plan is still intact, he may lead us to whoever created the paperwork."
Dr. Hart looked at me.
I nodded.
She made the call from the hallway.
Meanwhile, Jonah photographed every document in the suitcase.
The officer at the apartment contacted a supervisor.
What had begun as a civil standby had now become something more serious.
The officer would not call the infant passports genuine.
He called them suspected fraudulent identity documents.
That phrase was enough to make Mara's posture change.
"Nobody removes anything except Audrey's clearly personal property until law enforcement decides what they want preserved," she told Jonah.
"Understood."
I watched the screen as the officer sealed the guest room.
My baby clothes remained inside the suitcase.
That hurt more than I expected.
I wanted those blankets back.
Then I realized how close I had come to never seeing them again.
Dr. Hart returned.
"Northstar has a pending transfer request for both twins."
My hands went numb.
Everett moved closer to the bed.
"Who submitted it?"
"The request came through a physician portal under Peter Lang's credentials."
Of course it did.
"When?"
"Last night."
"Receiving physician?"
"A Dr. Aaron Voss."
Everett looked at Mara.
"Do we know him?"
"Not yet."
Dr. Hart continued.
"Northstar flagged the request because the babies were listed as stable for elective transfer, but their recent clinical data did not support that description."
I stared at her.
"So they were not going to come?"
"They had requested confirmation this morning."
"From whom?"
"From Peter Lang."
Mara's phone rang.
She stepped away to answer.
Everett sat beside me.
"Audrey, listen to me."
I turned toward him.
"Nobody is taking those babies anywhere."
"You cannot promise that."
"I can promise every legal and physical safeguard I control will be used."
"That is different."
"Yes."
He looked toward the window.
"You always hated false promises."
"Grandmother taught me that."
"She taught me too."
We sat silently for a moment.
Then Mara returned.
"Dominic filed."
I knew what she meant before she finished.
"Emergency custody?"
"And an emergency petition for medical decision-making authority over the twins."
The timing was almost elegant.
He had threatened it less than two hours earlier.
Now he had done it.
"On what grounds?"
Mara's expression was grim.
"He claims you are suffering from postpartum psychosis and are being manipulated by an estranged relative with a financial interest in destroying his business."
Everett gave a humorless laugh.
"Estranged relative."
"He describes you as a vulnerable patient with a history of paranoia."
"Using the fake consultation."
"Yes."
"Does the court know I was unconscious when it supposedly happened?"
"Not yet."
"Then tell them."
"We will."
"When is the hearing?"
"This afternoon."
I stared at her.
"Today?"
"Emergency petitions move quickly."
"I am still admitted."
"We can request remote appearance."
"No."
Everett looked at me.
"Audrey."
"If a judge is going to decide whether I am stable enough to protect my children, I am not appearing from bed with an IV pole beside me if I can physically sit in a wheelchair downstairs."
Mara studied me.
"This is not about optics."
"It is absolutely about optics."
"Your health comes first."
"My children come first."
Dr. Hart stepped in.
"Those do not have to be different things."
I looked at her.
"Can I leave this floor for a hearing?"
"Not without your obstetric team clearing it."
"Then call them."
She sighed.
"I will ask."
Mara sat beside the bed.
"Before you decide anything, you need to know what Dominic filed with the petition."
She turned the tablet toward me.
There were photographs.
One showed me crying in our bedroom during the sixth month of pregnancy.
I remembered the night.
My mother had been dead exactly one year.
Dominic had photographed me without my knowledge.
Another showed a broken glass on the kitchen floor.
The caption described a violent outburst.
The actual incident had been me dropping a glass when Chloe kicked unexpectedly hard.
A third photograph showed prescription bottles beside my bed.
Prenatal vitamins.
Iron supplements.
Anti-nausea medication.
Dominic's affidavit called them psychiatric medications.
"He has been collecting this for months."
My voice barely rose above a whisper.
"Yes."
Mara swiped to the next document.
A declaration from Natalie claimed she had personally witnessed me threaten Dominic.
Another declaration came from Peter Lang.
He stated that I had expressed irrational fears about my husband's loyalty and had become emotionally volatile during pregnancy.
My anger finally broke through the exhaustion.
"He was not my doctor."
"We will establish that."
"He saw me socially maybe five times."
"We will establish that too."
"And Natalie is his mistress."
"Yes."
"How is any of this enough?"
Mara held my gaze.
"Emergency courts often make temporary decisions with incomplete information because they are trying to minimize immediate risk."
"So he creates the appearance of risk first."
"Exactly."
I looked toward the NICU feed on the monitor beside my bed.
Liam slept under a tiny cap.
Chloe's chest rose in small measured movements.
"What is he asking for?"
"Exclusive medical decision-making authority until you undergo an independent psychiatric evaluation."
"And physical custody?"
"Once they are discharged."
I felt sick.
"He planned this before they were born."
Everett's face was stone.
"We do not know that yet."
"He took photographs for months."
"Then we will find out when they were organized and why."
Mara looked at the time.
"The hearing is at three thirty."
It was almost noon.
"I need two things," I said.
"Name them."
"The ICU records proving I was unconscious during the fake consultation."
"Already requested."
"And the original metadata from Dominic's photographs."
Mara nodded.
"We can demand originals later, but for today we can challenge his descriptions."
"No."
I pointed to the image of me crying.
"That photo was taken the night of March seventeenth."
"How do you know?"
"Because it was the anniversary of my mother's death."
I looked at Everett.
"And you called me at nine twelve that night."
His eyes widened slightly.
"I remember."
"My phone records will show it."
Mara wrote it down.
I pointed to the broken glass.
"That happened at my baby shower planning dinner."
"Witnesses?"
"Six."
"Good."
Then I tapped the prescription photo.
"Get the pharmacy records."
"We will."
For the first time since Dominic entered the NICU, I felt something other than hurt.
I felt prepared.
Mara rose.
"There is one more problem."
"Of course there is."
"Dominic attached a proposed order."
She handed me the tablet.
I read the paragraph twice.
If granted, it would authorize him to approve transfer of the twins to another medical facility without my consent.
My pulse began to pound.
"The flight."
Mara nodded.
"If he gets the order, he may try to use it to validate the transfer request."
Everett stood.
"Then he does not get the order."
I looked at my grandfather.
"No."
Then I looked at Mara.
"He gets something better."
May you like
"What?"
"He gets to explain the four seats to Grand Cayman to a judge."
