Chapter 5 - The Emergency Ward
The sterile white lights of City General Hospital felt blinding after the dark, rainy alleyways.
In a private trauma room on the pediatric floor, a team of doctors and nurses worked efficiently over the newborn. Monitors beeped in steady, reassuring rhythms. A small oxygen cannula rested under the baby’s button nose, and an IV line was taped securely to her tiny, translucent hand.
Eleanor sat on the edge of a plastic chair in the corner, refusing the nurse’s repeated offers to check her own vital signs. Her Armani suit was ruined—stained with mud, grease, and rain—and her hair was wild, but she looked like an empress guarding her most sacred treasure.
Dr. Harrison, the senior pediatrician on duty, stepped away from the incubator and walked over with a gentle, professional smile.
“Miraculously, she’s going to be fine, Ms. Montgomery,” Dr. Harrison said, looking at the corporate badge Eleanor had hastily flashed upon arrival to secure the private wing. “Another thirty minutes in that bin, and her core temperature would have dropped past the point of no return. But she’s resilient. A true fighter.”
Eleanor let out a long, ragged breath she felt like she had been holding for an eternity. “Can I touch her?”
“Of course.”
Eleanor stepped up to the incubator, sliding her hand through the rubber port. She gently stroked the baby’s downy head. The infant let out a tiny sigh, turning instinctively toward the warmth of her finger.
At that moment, the door to the room clicked open.
Sarah Lin, vice president of Montgomery Tower, rushed in, still wearing her daytime blouse and slacks, looking thoroughly panicked. James, the security guard, had tracked her down immediately after the police report hit the precinct wires.
“Eleanor!” Sarah gasped, rushing across the room and stopping short when she saw the ruined suit, the pale face, and the baby in the incubator. “My God, James said you were in an incident, but—what on earth happened?”
Before Eleanor could answer, a tired-looking social worker stepped into the room, accompanied by a police detective holding a thick manila folder.
“Ms. Montgomery?” the detective asked, flipping open his notepad. “Hospital staff said you claimed the infant as your own. We need to establish the facts. Security footage from Montgomery Tower captured you walking into the alley behind the service road. We also found a witness statement from the little girl currently sleeping in the adjoining room.”
Eleanor turned to face them, her posture straightening. The vulnerability of the past hour vanished, replaced by the formidable steel that had made her a billionaire.
“Detective,” Eleanor said coldly, her voice carrying absolute authority. “The child was abandoned to die in a public refuse bin. The state has failed to protect her for the first few hours of her life. But from this second forward, her protection is my responsibility.”
“Legally speaking, adoption and custody require a lengthy investigation—” the social worker began, stepping forward.
Eleanor cut her off with a single, icy look.
“Call my general counsel right now,” Eleanor commanded, pulling her phone from her ruined coat pocket and sliding it across the table toward Sarah. “Tell him to wake up every judge on the family court circuit if he has to. By sunrise, I want full emergency custody and guardianship of this child, and temporary custody of the little girl who saved her.”
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Sarah stared at her boss for three seconds, reading the absolute, unyielding fire in Eleanor’s eyes. Then, a slow, proud smile spread across Sarah’s face.
“Right away, Boss,” Sarah said, picking up the phone.
