Chapter 14
Chapter 14:
The ambulance ride across town was a fresh kind of hell. Isolde sat crammed in the back, her hand clutching Effie’s small, still one, watching the city lights smear into streaks through the rain-slicked windows. Every siren was a countdown timer in her head. When they finally pulled into the pristine, covered ambulance bay of Lenox Hill, the contrast was jarring. The air here didn’t smell of desperation; it smelled of money and antiseptic.
After getting Effie settled in a new room in the pediatric ICU—a sterile, efficient space that felt worlds away from the chaotic ER at Sinai—Isolde was directed to the administrative floor to handle the insurance paperwork. Numb and exhausted, she followed the signs down a hushed, carpeted corridor. She needed coffee. She needed to think about how she was going to pay for this. The deposit at Sinai had taken half her cash.
She turned the corner toward the elevators and stopped dead.
The VIP wing was located just past the main nurses’ station, separated by frosted glass doors. One of those doors was propped open by a cleaning cart.
Inside, Isolde saw a scene that looked like it had been ripped from a magazine advertisement for the perfect family.
Grayson was sitting on the edge of a hospital bed. He was holding a bowl of porridge. He dipped a spoon in, blew on it gently, and held it out.
“Open up, champ,” he said. His voice was soft. Tender.
Kaiden, sitting up against fluffy pillows, opened his mouth. He looked fine. His color was good. He was watching cartoons on an iPad propped up on the tray table.
𝗗і𝘴со𝘃𝘦𝘳 h𝘪d𝖽eո 𝘨𝘦𝗆𝘴 o𝗇
Belle was sitting in a chair next to them, reading a fashion magazine. She looked impeccable, not a hair out of place.
Isolde felt the paper cup in her hand crush inward. Hot coffee spilled over the rim, scalding her thumb and forefinger.
She didn’t feel the burn. The pain in her chest was so much louder.
Grayson laughed at something Kaiden said. He wiped the boy’s mouth with a napkin.
Isolde stood there, frozen. He was feeding a child who had thrown cake at her. He was comforting a boy who had called his sister stupid. Meanwhile, Effie was lying alone in a room down the hall, with tubes in her nose, asking why her daddy didn’t love her.
Grayson turned to put the bowl down. His eyes caught movement in the hallway.
He looked up.
His gaze locked with Isolde’s.
For a second, he looked surprised. Then his expression shifted. The tenderness vanished, replaced by a familiar mask of irritation. He said something to Belle, stood up, and walked briskly out of the room.
He intercepted Isolde in the hallway, closing the glass door behind him to mute the sound.
“Are you stalking me?” he hissed, keeping his voice low. “I turn my phone off for one night to focus on my son, and you show up here? That is a new low, Isolde p>
Isolde looked at him. She looked at the expensive cut of his shirt, the lack of dark circles under his eyes.
“Your son,” she repeated. Her voice was flat.
“Yes, my son. Who was sick. While you were playing games p>
Belle pushed through the door, stepping up beside Grayson. She placed a possessive hand on his arm.