Chapter 2 - The Safe Harbor
The drive to the city hospital felt longer than the five-hour flight from Changi. Elena sat in the passenger seat of my sedan, staring out the rain-streaked window with a hollow expression. Her hands remained folded over her protruding stomach, shielding our child as though she expected someone to reach through the glass and snatch him away.
“We’re going to Dr. Vance’s private clinic,” I said, keeping my eyes on the wet asphalt. “Not our house. Not my mother’s properties. A neutral place.”
Elena’s voice was barely a whisper, hoarse from hours of crying. “She’ll call the lawyers, Daniel. Your mother owns the board seats. She holds the voting shares of Vance Industries through the family trust. If you cross her—truly cross her—she will cut you off completely.”
“Let her try,” I replied. My grip on the steering wheel was so tight my knuckles ached. “She thinks the sun rises and sets on her control because my father left everything to her name for estate management. She forgot who actually built the logistics algorithms that tripled our quarterly revenue over the last three years.”
When we arrived, Dr. Vance’s senior nurse took Elena immediately to the obstetrics ward for monitoring. I waited in the sterile, white-lit consultation room, pacing back and forth across the linoleum floor. Every tick of the wall clock felt like a countdown.
Dr. Vance walked in twenty minutes later, his expression grim. He dropped a manila folder onto his desk and looked at me over his wire-rimmed glasses.
“The baby’s heartbeat is stable now, Daniel, but your wife experienced severe stress-induced contractions. At thirty-two weeks, any prolonged trauma could trigger premature labor. Her blood pressure was dangerously high. What the hell happened?”
I didn’t soften the truth. “My mother subjected her to physical humiliation. Forcing her to wash her feet on a marble floor while filming her.”
Dr. Vance slammed his hand flat against the desk. The sound echoed sharply in the small room. “Are they insane? Elena is a brilliant architect, a gentle soul, and she’s carrying your child. If she stays in that toxic environment another day, I will report this to social services myself.”
“She isn’t going back,” I said firmly. “I’ve rented a penthouse suite at The Grand Horizon downtown under a corporate entity my mother has no access to. I need you to sign off on a medical rest order for Elena. No visitors, no phone calls, complete seclusion.”
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“Done,” Dr. Vance said, pulling out his electronic signature pad. “And Daniel? Audit your accounts. Women like your mother don't just act like tyrants; they bleed people dry when they sense they are losing control.”
“I’m already a step ahead, Doctor.”
