Chapter 2: Miracles in the ICU
Four hours later, Mark sat on a vinyl chair in the waiting room, his head buried in his trembling hands. The hallway was dead silent save for the hum of fluorescent lights. When Dr. Vance walked out in blood-stained scrubs, Mark leaped to his feet.
“How are they?” Mark’s voice was barely a rasp.
“Your wife suffered severe internal trauma,” Dr. Vance said, placing a steady hand on Mark’s shoulder. “We performed an emergency Cesarean section. It was touch-and-go for both of them, but Clara is stable. And your daughter... she’s tiny, barely three pounds, but she is a fighter.”
Mark collapsed back into his seat, weeping tears of overwhelming relief. His baby girl was alive in an incubator in the NICU. Yet beneath the relief lay a bitter poison: his own mother had almost murdered his wife and unborn child over a sum of money he didn’t even know existed.
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When Mark finally entered Clara’s room, her pale face looked translucent under the soft blue lights. She slowly opened her eyes and searched his face. “Is she...?”
“She’s breathing, Clara. She’s in the NICU, but she’s safe,” Mark sobbed, kissing her forehead. Clara let out a raspy sob, closing her eyes as tears traced down her cheeks.
