Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary in the PenthouseBy 1:00 AM, the archives were cleared, and the top-floor penthouse of the Vance Maritime Tower had been converted into an impenetrable fortress.
While the freezing rain battered the floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking Boston Harbor, a fire roared in the massive granite hearth.
Nora lay propped against ivory silk pillows in the master bedroom, wrapped in a plush cashmere throw. The blood and grime had been gently washed from her hands and face, and an intravenous line ran into her right arm, delivering fluids and electrolytes.
Dr. Elena Aris, the chief of obstetrics at Massachusetts General Hospital, sat on the edge of the mattress with a portable ultrasound monitor.
The rhythmic, galloping pulse of a fetal heartbeat filled the quiet room.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
Nathaniel stood at the foot of the bed, his suit jacket discarded, his shirtsleeves rolled to his forearms. His dark eyes remained fixed on the glowing screen.
“Report, Elena,” Nathaniel commanded softly.
“The baby is a fighter, Nathaniel,” Dr. Aris said, adjusting the transducer over Nora’s rounded stomach. “A healthy boy. Heart rate is steady at one hundred and forty beats per minute. But your sister was on the brink of premature labor from physical exhaustion, dehydration, and hypothermia. If she had remained on those cold stones another hour, the placental wall would have compromised.”
Nathaniel’s jaw clenched until the muscle flared like a drawn bowstring.
“Can you stop the contractions?”
“The terbutaline drip has already relaxed the uterine muscle,” the doctor assured him, gently wiping the warm gel from Nora’s skin. “Her vitals are stabilizing. With strict bed rest, high-protein meals, and proper prenatal care, she will carry to full term without danger.”
Nora let out a long, ragged breath, her hand resting over the gentle rise of her belly.
“Thank you, Doctor,” she whispered.
“Rest, Julianna,” Dr. Aris smiled warmly, gathering her instruments. “You’re in the safest room in New England tonight.”
When the doctor exited, Nathaniel walked to the bedside.
He sat down on the edge of the mattress, taking Nora’s small hand into both of his massive, scarred palms.
“Who was the man in Maine, Julianna?” Nathaniel asked, his voice low and protective. “The father of your child.”
A shadow of grief crossed Nora’s face.
“His name was Thomas Hall. He was an honest deckhand on an independent lumber barge. Six months ago, his captain accepted an unregistered cargo from a logistics firm out of Halifax. The ship took on water during a gale off Portland. Thomas stayed below deck trying to dog the hatches so the crew could get to the lifeboats.”
She looked up at Nathaniel, tears pooling in her hazel eyes.
“When the ship went down, the logistics company denied he was ever on the manifest. They claimed he stole fifty thousand dollars in equipment and skipped town. The local loan sharks bought the debt and threatened to seize my baby if I didn't pay before winter.”
Nathaniel reached for his encrypted phone, tapping a speed-dial digit.
“Gideon.”
“Yes, Don Nathaniel.”
“Identify the logistics company that owned the lumber barge lost off Portland in April. Identify the creditors holding markers against Thomas Hall.”
“Already pulling the maritime registry, boss.”
“Liquidate the creditors,” Nathaniel ordered, his voice cold as the Atlantic. “Pay the debt in cash, and then burn their offices to the waterline. If anyone in Maine ever speaks the name Hall again, put them in the harbor.”
He hung up and laid the phone on the nightstand.
May you like
He looked down at his sister, his thumb gently smoothing over her bruised knuckles.
“Your husband was an honorable sailor, Julianna,” Nathaniel whispered. “He died protecting his crew. And his son will grow up with the full honor and protection of the Vance name. You will never owe a single copper to any man on this earth.”
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