Chapter 4 - Five Weeks Became Five Days
Emma did not sleep after learning that Nathan's signature appeared on the Harbor Light acquisition.
She tried.
Rachel made tea.
Margaret Shaw closed the bookstore and taped brown paper over the front windows to block the cameras outside.
The three women sat upstairs while rain struck the roof and reporters shouted questions from the sidewalk.
Emma heard every word.
"Emma, did Nathan know you were pregnant when he left you?"
"Emma, is the baby Nathan's?"
"Emma, are you refusing a paternity test?"
"Emma, did Whitmore Global force you out of New York?"
Every question was designed to turn her private pain into a public argument.
At noon, one reporter shouted something about Olivia.
Margaret stood so quickly her chair scraped the floor.
"I'm going downstairs."
Rachel caught her arm.
"No."
"That man just called Emma a homewrecker in her own doorway."
Emma almost laughed at the absurdity.
Somewhere between New York and Oregon, she had apparently become the woman destroying her husband's affair.
"Let them talk," Emma said.
Margaret looked at her.
"You shouldn't have to listen to this."
"Neither should you."
"This is my building."
"Exactly."
Emma's voice softened.
"And my husband's company apparently wants it."
Margaret sat back down.
The hurt in the older woman's face made Emma feel worse than the reporters did.
"Rachel told me," Margaret said.
Emma nodded.
"Nathan says he didn't know."
"Do you believe him?"
Emma looked toward the paper-covered windows.
"I believe he's capable of signing something without reading it."
Margaret studied her.
"That's not better."
"No."
Emma's hand moved to her stomach.
The baby had been restless all morning.
"It might be worse."
Her phone vibrated.
A message from Nathan.
He had respected her instruction not to call.
The message contained no apology.
No plea.
Only information.
"The signature is mine."
Emma's chest tightened.
A second message followed.
"I signed a forty-two-page capital allocation package nine months ago. Harbor was buried on page thirty-eight under a subsidiary code."
Then another.
"That does not excuse me. I approved what I did not understand."
Emma stared at the words.
That sentence sounded different from the Nathan she had left.
The old Nathan would have blamed staff.
The old Nathan would have said he signed based on recommendations.
The old Nathan would have explained why a powerful man could not reasonably know every detail.
This Nathan simply wrote the truth.
He had signed it.
He had failed to know what his own power was doing.
Emma typed a response.
"What happens to the project now?"
Nathan replied almost immediately.
"I issued a temporary stop order."
Emma frowned.
"Temporary?"
"The board can override me."
"Will they?"
A pause.
Then:
"Martin Keene called an emergency meeting for tomorrow."
Emma's stomach tightened again.
This time the pressure lasted longer.
She set the phone down.
Rachel noticed.
"Contraction?"
"Probably Braxton Hicks."
"You've had four in an hour."
"Have you been counting?"
"Yes."
Emma sighed.
"Of course you have."
Rachel stood.
"We're calling your doctor."
"I'm fine."
"You said that at twenty-four weeks too."
Emma's expression changed.
Rachel immediately softened.
"I'm not trying to scare you."
"You succeeded."
Margaret was already reaching for her coat.
"The hospital is twelve minutes away."
Emma looked at the reporters outside.
"And there are twelve cameras downstairs."
Rachel picked up her keys.
"Then they can photograph the back of my car."
Another contraction came before Emma could argue.
This one made her grip the edge of the table.
The room went silent.
Rachel looked at the clock.
"That was six minutes."
Emma breathed slowly until the pain eased.
"Call the doctor."
Twenty minutes later, they slipped through the bookstore's rear delivery entrance.
A photographer was waiting in the alley.
Rachel swore.
The man raised his camera.
Emma turned her face away.
"Emma, are you in labor?"
Rachel stepped between them.
"Move."
"Is the baby early?"
"Move."
"Did Nathan cause this?"
Emma stopped.
Rachel grabbed her arm.
"Don't."
But Emma turned toward the camera.
Her face was pale with pain.
Her voice was calm.
"My pregnancy is not entertainment."
The photographer lowered the camera slightly.
For one second, he looked ashamed.
Then his phone rang.
The moment disappeared.
Rachel got Emma into the car.
They reached the hospital in eleven minutes.
The triage nurse recognized Emma before Emma gave her name.
That was how quickly the story had spread.
The nurse's eyes flicked toward Emma's stomach.
Then toward the waiting room television.
Nathan's face filled the screen.
He was entering Whitmore Global beneath a wall of cameras.
A banner beneath him read:
WHITMORE CEO FACES BOARD REVOLT AMID MARRIAGE SCANDAL.
Emma looked away.
"How far apart are the contractions?" the nurse asked.
"Five to six minutes."
"Any bleeding?"
"No."
"Fluid?"
Emma started to answer.
Then she felt warmth.
Her eyes widened.
The nurse saw her expression.
"Emma?"
Emma looked down.
The front of her dress was wet.
Rachel went white.
"Is that-"
The nurse pressed the call button.
"We need obstetrics now."
Everything moved quickly after that.
A wheelchair.
A hospital gown.
Monitors.
A doctor pressing cool hands against Emma's abdomen.
A nurse asking questions Emma answered twice because she could not remember answering the first time.
The fetal heartbeat was strong.
The contractions were real.
Her water had broken.
Emma was thirty-five weeks pregnant.
Five weeks early.
Dr. Laura Chen pulled a stool beside the bed.
"We're going to try to slow things down, but I need you to understand that your baby may decide today is the day."
Emma stared at her.
"Today?"
"Possibly."
Emma's throat closed.
"Is the baby okay?"
"Right now, yes."
"And if she comes?"
Dr. Chen smiled gently.
"Thirty-five-week babies usually do very well, but she may need help with breathing, feeding, temperature, or blood sugar."
Emma stopped.
"She?"
The doctor blinked.
Rachel covered her mouth.
Emma had not asked to know the sex.
Neither had Nathan.
They had once planned to be surprised together.
Dr. Chen looked horrified.
"I'm so sorry."
Emma stared at the ceiling.
Then, unexpectedly, she laughed through tears.
"It's okay."
Rachel squeezed her hand.
"A girl."
Emma nodded.
"A girl."
The words felt real in a way the ultrasound photographs never had.
Her daughter.
Then another contraction hit.
Emma closed her eyes and breathed.
When it ended, Rachel asked the question neither of them had voiced.
"Do you want me to call Nathan?"
Emma's entire body tightened again for a reason that had nothing to do with labor.
Nathan was three thousand miles away.
The board meeting was tomorrow.
The press was already outside.
The last thing Emma wanted was another spectacle.
The first thing her daughter deserved was a father who knew she might be arriving.
Emma looked at Rachel.
"Call Eleanor."
Rachel nodded.
"And tell her she can tell Nathan."
Rachel stepped into the hallway.
Emma stared at the fetal monitor.
The heartbeat rose and fell in steady green lines.
"Stay with me," Emma whispered.
She was not sure whether she meant the baby or herself.
In Manhattan, Nathan was seated across from Martin Keene when Eleanor called.
Martin was halfway through a sentence about fiduciary duty.
Nathan's phone vibrated.
He saw his mother's name and stood immediately.
Martin stopped speaking.
"We're not finished."
Nathan answered the call.
"Mom?"
Eleanor did not waste time.
"Emma's in labor."
Nathan's face emptied.
The conference room disappeared around him.
"What?"
"Her water broke."
"It's too early."
"Thirty-five weeks."
"Is the baby okay?"
"For now."
"Emma?"
"Scared."
Nathan grabbed his coat.
Martin stood.
"Where are you going?"
Nathan ignored him.
"Mom, which hospital?"
Eleanor hesitated.
Then Nathan heard the meaning in the silence.
Emma had finally authorized this.
His throat tightened.
"Please."
Eleanor gave him the name.
Nathan closed his eyes for one second.
Then he called his assistant.
"Get me to Oregon."
Martin stepped in front of the door.
"If you leave now, the board will interpret it as abandonment of your duties."
Nathan looked at him.
"My daughter is being born five weeks early."
"The meeting is tomorrow morning."
"Move."
"Nathan, if you walk out, I have eight votes to remove you as chief executive pending investigation."
Nathan's hand tightened around his phone.
For most of his adult life, that threat would have stopped him.
Whitmore Global was not simply his company.
It was the proof of every sacrifice he had made.
Every missed dinner.
Every canceled weekend.
Every flight away from Emma.
He had once believed losing the company would mean losing himself.
Now his daughter was coming into the world without him.
Nathan looked at Martin.
"Then use your eight votes."
Martin's face changed.
Nathan stepped around him.
Daniel Mercer was waiting outside the conference room.
Security had suspended his badge, but Martin had apparently brought him back into the building.
Nathan stopped.
Daniel's expression was unreadable.
"You chose badly," Daniel said.
Nathan almost kept walking.
Then he turned.
"No."
His voice was calm.
"I chose badly for eight years."
He looked at the men who had helped build his empire while his marriage collapsed beside it.
"I'm finally choosing on purpose."
Then he left.
Seven hours later, Nathan's flight was descending over Oregon when his phone connected to service.
Twenty-three messages appeared at once.
The first was from Eleanor.
"Call me as soon as you land."
The second was from Rachel.
"Emma asked whether you made the flight."
The third was from an unknown number.
Nathan opened it.
The message contained a photograph of a hospital corridor.
At the far end, Emma's room number was visible.
Underneath were five words.
"You were warned to stay away."
Nathan's blood went cold.
Before he could respond, another message arrived.
"If you enter that hospital, the next story won't be about your marriage."
A final attachment appeared.
It was a draft headline.
WHITMORE FOUNDATION FUNDS MISSING AS CEO RACES TO SECRET LOVE CHILD.
May you like
Nathan stared at the words.
Then the plane touched the runway.
