Chapter 3 - THREE HEARTBEATS
I woke to silence.
Not peaceful silence.
Hospital silence.
The kind filled with distant footsteps, machines beeping behind walls, and voices speaking softly because someone nearby might be dying.
My eyes opened slowly.
White ceiling.
White curtains.
White sheets.
Then pain.
It spread through my entire body.
I tried to move.
A nurse immediately appeared.
“Mrs. Mercer?”
“My babies.”
The words came out barely above a whisper.
The nurse smiled.
“They're alive.”
I started crying.
All the fear I'd been holding inside me for hours collapsed at once.
“Three?”
“All three.”
I covered my mouth.
“Are they okay?”
“They're extremely premature, but they're fighting.”
“Can I see them?”
“When you're stable.”
I closed my eyes.
“Thank God.”
Then I remembered Ethan.
My face hardened.
“Did my husband come?”
The nurse hesitated.
“Yes.”
My heart sank.
“What did he say?”
Before she could answer, the door opened.
Adrian Blackwood entered.
He had changed clothes.
Black suit.
White shirt.
No tie.
He looked like someone who had spent the entire night in a boardroom rather than a hospital.
He stopped when he saw me awake.
“You're conscious.”
I stared at him.
“You stayed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He pulled a chair toward the bed.
“Because you asked me not to let your children die.”
“I didn't mean you had to stay.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
He sat.
“Because I gave you my word.”
I studied him.
There was something unsettling about Adrian Blackwood.
He wasn't charming.
He wasn't warm.
He didn't try to impress me.
He simply looked at people as though he could see through whatever they were hiding.
“Ethan came,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Did he see the babies?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Adrian's expression changed.
“He asked who told me about them.”
My stomach tightened.
“That's strange.”
“Very.”
I looked toward the window.
“Ethan knew I was pregnant.”
“I know.”
“He knew they were triplets.”
“I know.”
“So what's strange?”
Adrian leaned forward.
“He didn't ask if you survived.”
My chest tightened.
“He didn't?”
“No.”
I stared at the blanket.
I shouldn't have been surprised.
But I was.
Five years.
Five years of marriage.
And I still had a tiny piece of me that believed Ethan cared.
That maybe beneath the cruelty there had been something real.
Apparently, there wasn't.
“Where is he now?”
“Gone.”
“Back to Los Angeles?”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Then where?”
“His attorney's office.”
A cold feeling ran through me.
“Why?”
Adrian's voice lowered.
“He's trying to determine whether the children have any claim against his estate.”
I laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“His estate?”
“Yes.”
“His children were born less than six hours ago, and he's worried about money?”
“Apparently.”
I turned my face toward the window.
I didn't want Adrian to see me cry again.
But he did.
“You should rest.”
“I don't want to.”
“You nearly died tonight.”
“So did my babies.”
“They're alive.”
“Because you helped.”
He didn't answer.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Adrian stood.
“You don't owe me anything.”
He reached the door.
Then stopped.
“There is something you should know.”
I looked at him.
“Your husband has been hiding financial information from you.”
“What kind?”
“Assets.”
I frowned.
“I knew he had investments.”
“Not investments.”
He turned.
“Trusts.”
My heartbeat changed.
“What trusts?”
“Three.”
I stared at him.
“Three?”
“Each one was created within the first year of your marriage.”
“Why?”
“That is what I'm trying to find out.”
“You're investigating my husband?”
“Someone is.”
“Who?”
Adrian's expression became unreadable.
“That's what worries me.”
Before I could ask more, he left.
I lay there staring at the door.
Three trusts.
Three babies.
Three years of lies.
Was it coincidence?
Or had Ethan been preparing for something long before I knew?
The next morning, I saw my children.
A nurse wheeled me into the NICU.
The sight nearly destroyed me.
Three tiny bodies.
Three incubators.
Three sets of wires.
My daughter was the smallest.
She weighed barely two pounds.
My first son had a tiny cap over his head.
My second son was struggling with his breathing.
I pressed my hand against the incubator.
“Mommy's here.”
My voice broke.
“Mommy's here.”
The nurse smiled gently.
“They respond to your voice.”
I cried harder.
Then I noticed something.
A man standing several feet behind me.
Adrian.
He wasn't looking at me.
He was watching the babies.
“You came back.”
“I never left.”
I turned.
“What?”
“I have an office upstairs.”
“You have an office in the hospital?”
He almost smiled.
“I own the building.”
Of course he did.
I looked back at my children.
“Why would someone like you care about mine?”
Adrian was silent for a moment.
“Because someone should.”
Those four words stayed with me.
That afternoon, Ethan arrived again.
This time alone.
He walked into my hospital room carrying a leather folder.
No flowers.
No apology.
No concern.
Just paperwork.
“You look better,” he said.
I stared at him.
“Did you come to see the babies?”
“They're being taken care of.”
“That wasn't my question.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Claire, don't make this difficult.”
I almost laughed.
“You threw me out of our home while I was pregnant with your children.”
“I gave you twenty-four hours.”
“You froze my accounts.”
“You had access to enough money.”
“You left me in the rain.”
“You chose to leave.”
I stared at him.
“You really believe that?”
His silence answered me.
Then he put the folder on the table.
“Sign these.”
“What are they?”
“Temporary parental arrangements.”
I opened the folder.
My hands began shaking.
The document stated that Ethan would assume primary decision-making authority for the children once they were medically stable.
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
“You're emotionally unstable.”
I looked up.
“What did you say?”
“You're recovering from emergency surgery. You aren't in a position to make rational decisions.”
“Get out.”
“You need to understand—”
“Get out!”
The door opened.
Adrian stood there.
Ethan froze.
Adrian's gaze moved to the papers.
Then to Ethan.
“Leave.”
Ethan's face reddened.
“This is between me and my wife.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“She said leave.”
“You don't control her.”
“No.”
Adrian's voice was quiet.
“But I can make your life considerably more difficult.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“You think money scares me?”
“No.”
Adrian looked at him.
“I think evidence does.”
Ethan went still.
“What evidence?”
Adrian smiled faintly.
“That's the question you should be asking yourself.”
Ethan grabbed the folder.
“You're interfering in my family.”
Adrian's eyes hardened.
“No.”
He stepped aside.
“I'm preventing you from destroying it.”
Ethan left.
The door slammed.
I stared at Adrian.
“What does he have to hide?”
“More than you know.”
“What evidence?”
“I don't have enough yet.”
“Then why did you say that?”
“To make him nervous.”
I almost smiled.
It was the first time I had smiled since the night before.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
My blood ran cold.
There was a photograph.
Me.
Pregnant.
Standing outside Ethan's office three months earlier.
Underneath it were six words:
YOU DON'T KNOW WHOSE CHILDREN THEY ARE.
My hands began shaking.
Adrian saw my face.
“What happened?”
I handed him the phone.
He looked at the photograph.
His entire expression changed.
“Who sent this?”
“I don't know.”
He studied the image.
Then zoomed in.
His eyes narrowed.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“This photograph wasn't taken three months ago.”
My heart stopped.
“What do you mean?”
He pointed to the background.
A digital billboard.
A construction site.
A car.
“This building wasn't standing three months ago.”
I stared.
“Then when?”
Adrian looked at me.
“Yesterday.”
The room went cold.
Someone had photographed me at the hospital.
Someone had followed me.
And someone wanted me to believe my babies belonged to someone other than Ethan.
But Adrian noticed something else.
In the reflection of the hospital window behind me, a man's silhouette was visible.
Watching.
May you like
Waiting.
And the man was wearing an employee badge from Mercer Holdings.
