The Golden Cage
Clara collapsed into a plastic chair in the corner of the trauma room, her legs finally giving out as the adrenaline drained from her system.
A nurse gently wrapped a blanket around Clara’s shoulders and began cleaning and bandaging the cuts on her bare feet.
"You saved his life, Mrs. Vance," Dr. Sterling said, pulling down his surgical mask as he walked over. His eyes were grave. "Another fifteen minutes in that house, and the ductus would have fully fused shut. His organs would have suffered irreversible ischemic damage."
"What is wrong with him?" Clara asked, her voice cracking with suppressed tears.
"He has Transposition of the Great Arteries—a structural defect where the main vessels leaving the heart are switched," Dr. Sterling explained gently. "He requires an immediate arterial switch operation by a pediatric cardiothoracic surgical team. We are preparing him for an emergency helicopter transfer to Boston Children's Hospital."
The heavy double doors of the emergency room burst open.
Blake Vance strode in, still wearing his immaculate charcoal luncheon blazer, his silk tie slightly loosened. Behind him stood Victoria, clutching her designer leather handbag, her silver hair catching the fluorescent hospital lights.
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"Clara!" Blake shouted, looking around the trauma bay in furious embarrassment as staff and patients turned to stare. "What is the meaning of this spectacle? You took my son out of the house barefoot? Do you have any idea what it looked like when the estate security called and told us the gate alarm was tripped?"
"Blake," Victoria added, stepping forward with a cool, dismissive wave of her hand toward the nursing staff. "I apologize for this disturbance, Doctor. My daughter-in-law has been suffering from severe postpartum emotional volatility. We will be taking the baby home in our private vehicle."
