Chapter 8 - The Rush to the Delivery Room
Panic—pure, unadulterated panic—seized the most feared man in Chicago.
For all his tactical training, for all the wars he had fought and won in the underworld, Adrian Cole had never felt so entirely helpless as he did watching his wife double over in labor three weeks ahead of schedule.
“Dr. Helen!” Adrian bellowed, his voice echoing through the entire mansion with enough force to wake the dead. “Get up here now!”
Within thirty seconds, Dr. Helen burst into the master bedroom followed by two tactical nurses carrying emergency medical gear.
“Calm down, Mr. Cole, I’ve delivered hundreds of babies,” Dr. Helen commanded firmly, slipping on sterile gloves as she examined Maya on the bed. “Mrs. Cole, contractions are two minutes apart. We don't have time to transport her to downtown Chicago. We are delivering this baby right here, right now.”
“Here? In the bedroom?” Adrian repeated, his eyes wide.
“Unless you want your daughter born in the back of an SUV on a snowy highway, yes!” Dr. Helen snapped. “Now, Mr. Cole, you can either step outside the door like a useless bystander, or you can roll up your sleeves, hold your wife’s hand, and be the man she needs right now.”
Adrian didn't hesitate for a single second. He walked around to the side of the bed, pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, and sat down directly beside Maya, taking her trembling hand in both of his.
“I’m right here,” he said fiercely, his voice steady, low, and filled with absolute devotion. “I’m not going anywhere, Maya. Look at me.”
Maya squeezed his hand so hard her knuckles turned white, her breathing coming in ragged, synchronized gasps as Dr. Helen guided her through the contractions.
“You can do this, Maya,” Adrian encouraged, brushing the damp hair away from her forehead, his own heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. “Our little girl is coming. Push, my love. Push.”
With a final, earth-shattering cry that echoed through the quiet winter night, Maya pushed with every ounce of strength she possessed.
And then, cutting sharply through the tension of the room, came the sweetest sound in the world: a loud, healthy, indignant wail of a newborn baby.
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Dr. Helen smiled triumphantly, lifting a tiny, wriggling bundle wrapped in a warm pink blanket.
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Cole,” the doctor beamed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You have a beautiful, healthy baby girl.”
