Chapter 3: Fragile Glass
The smell of antiseptic and old linoleum hit Mateo the moment he walked through the sliding doors of St. Jude's. The waiting room was crowded with exhausted families, the fluorescent lights buzzing with an irritating hum.
Mateo didn't wait in line. Marcus flashed a badge to the head nurse, and within seconds, they were escorted down a narrow hallway to Room 104.
Behind the flimsy plastic curtain lay a woman so frail she seemed made of paper. Elena’s once-radiant olive skin was pale, her breathing shallow beneath an oxygen mask. Monitors beeped a sluggish, rhythmic cadence beside the narrow cot.
"Mommy!" Emma cried, letting go of Mateo's hand and rushing to the bedside, pressing the worn teddy bear against the thin blanket.
Elena’s eyelids fluttered open. Her gaze locked onto her daughter, relief washing over her tired face, before shifting upward. When her eyes met Mateo's, a sharp gasp caught in her throat, sending the heart rate monitor into a sudden spike.
"Matt..." she whispered through the plastic mask.
Mateo pulled up a plastic chair and sat down beside the bed, leaning in close. His polished exterior completely cracked. "Why didn't you call me, Elena? Why did you disappear?"
Tears spilled over her sunken cheeks. "Your father's lawyers... they came to the cottage the day after you left," she wheezed softly. "They showed me who you really were. They told me a girl like me would ruin your succession... that they would take my baby away the second she was born if I ever tried to contact you."
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Mateo’s jaw locked so hard the muscle in his cheek twitched. His father's old board members had played him for a fool.
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