Chapter 3 - The Threat in the Red Dress
It was not the panicked lawyers returning with medical kits. It was not the executive assistants rushing in with towels or water.
Standing in the doorway was a woman dressed in a striking, tailored crimson red sheath dress. She was in her late fifties, her silver-blonde hair styled into an immaculate, rigid bob, her posture radiating cold, aristocratic arrogance. Her neck was adorned with three strands of heavy South Sea pearls.
It was Victoria Whitmore—Adrian’s mother.
In her right hand, she held a thick, dark leather file folder stamped with the crest of a high-end private investigation firm. Behind her stood two burly men in plain clothes—security personnel from the Whitmore family’s private estate team.
Victoria stepped into the room, her high heels clicking sharply against the marble entryway before hitting the carpet. Her eyes swept over the scene with absolute disgust: me doubled over in agony, soaked in amniotic fluid, and her billionaire son on his knees on the carpet, holding my hands as if I were the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.
"Adrian," Victoria said, her voice smooth, icy, and completely devoid of maternal warmth. "Stand up. Stop making a spectacle of yourself in front of the staff."
"Mother, get the hell out of here!" Adrian snarled without looking back at her, his eyes remaining locked on mine as I gasped through another violent wave of pain. "Her water broke! She’s in labor!"
"I can see that," Victoria replied coldly, walking closer to the table, her eyes darting over my trembling form with malicious satisfaction. She tossed the heavy leather file folder onto the glass table right next to the unsigned divorce papers. "Which is precisely why I came down from the executive suite. You need to read this before you let your emotions cloud your judgment any further."
"I don't give a damn about your files!" Adrian raged, his voice shaking with furious protection. "Call my personal medical team! Get Dr. Mercer on the phone and tell him to have the labor suite at Mount Sinai cleared immediately!"
"Adrian," Victoria repeated, her tone dropping into a low, commanding register as she stepped up right beside him. She leaned down slightly, her red lipstick curling into a sinister smile as she looked down at me, then whispered loudly enough for the entire room to hear:
"Adrian... don't let her leave this building with that baby. And whatever you do... do not put your name on that birth certificate."
My blood ran colder than the pain burning through my pelvis. I raised my head, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I stared at my mother-in-law. "What... what are you talking about?" I rasped.
"Show some dignity, Lena," Victoria sneered, flicking open the leather file folder on the table to reveal dozens of high-resolution surveillance photographs. "Did you really think you could run away to upstate New York, spend eight months residing in a cottage owned by your former university colleague, and pretend that my son was the only candidate for fatherhood?"
Adrian froze. His head snapped toward his mother, his eyes narrowing into deadly slits. "What did you just say?"
"I had my private team tracking her the moment she vanished," Victoria said smoothly, pulling out a printed set of medical records and bank statements. "While you were drowning in grief searching for your runaway wife, Lena was living comfortably under the protection of Dr. Julian Vance—a former senior research associate from her museum archives. The man who paid her security deposit, Adrian. The man who accompanied her to three separate prenatal checkups in Albany."
"That's... that's a lie!" I screamed, a sudden surge of terrifying realization hitting me. "Julian is my cousin! He’s my mother’s nephew! He helped me find an apartment because I had no money!"
"Cousin?" Victoria chuckled coldly, turning a page over. "A convenient cover story. But there are no legal records linking your maternal line to the Vance trust. As far as the court will be concerned, you spent eight months cohabitating with another man while carrying a child of questionable paternity, all while attempting to extort a multi-million-dollar divorce settlement from the Whitmore estate."
"Mother, shut your mouth!" Adrian roared, standing up swiftly, his massive frame towering over Victoria. His face was flushed with a terrifying, dark rage. "If you say another word against my wife, I will have security remove you from this building permanently!"
"I am trying to save you from yourself, Adrian!" Victoria snapped back, her composure finally breaking into sharp anger. "Look at her! She abandoned you! She kept your child hidden from you like a thief! And now she comes crawling back to sign divorce papers right when she’s due, looking for a payout? If that child is born and you sign the paternity acknowledgement before a DNA test is executed, she will have legal leverage over thirty percent of your trust shares under the family covenant!"
"I don't care about the trust!" Adrian shouted, grabbing the leather file from the table and ripping the papers in half with his bare hands, scattering the surveillance photos across the glass floor. "I don't care about the money! I care about my family!"
"She is NOT your family!" Victoria shouted back. She motioned sharply to the two security guards standing at the door. "Gentlemen, secure the room. We are bringing in our private medical transport. The child will be delivered at the Whitmore private clinic in Long Island, where full custody and legal isolation can be managed properly."
"Touch her," Adrian said, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly quiet, dangerous whisper as he stepped in front of my chair, shielding me completely with his body, "and I will kill you myself."
The two security guards hesitated, instantly recognizing that crossing Adrian Whitmore was a career—and life—ending mistake.
Before Victoria could speak again, another agonizing contraction slammed into me—far more violent than the last. It felt as though a hot iron had been pressed into my spine.
I let out a blood-curdling scream, slipping completely out of the leather chair and collapsing onto the carpeted floor.
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"LENA!" Adrian dropped to his knees beside me, ignoring his mother completely. He pulled me into his arms, lifting my upper body against his chest. "Lena, stay with me! Look at me!"
"Adrian..." I gasped, tears blinding my vision as I grabbed his lapels, pulling him down until his ear was inches from my mouth. "The baby... the baby is coming now! I can't wait... I can't go to Long Island... it's coming NOW!"
