Chapter 7 - A Storm Over Manhattan
The contraction hit with the force of a tidal wave, rippling through Claire’s abdomen with violent intensity. She bent forward over the table, groaning as the air left her lungs in a ragged wheeze.
“Claire!” Adrian was beside her in a fraction of a second, dropping to his knees, his broad hands instinctively supporting her shoulders. “Look at me. Breathe. Tell me what’s happening.”
“It’s… it’s too early,” Claire gasped, sweat instantly breaking out across her forehead as she clutched Adrian’s arm. Her nails dug through his sweater into the meat of his bicep, but he didn't even flinch. “I’m only… thirty-four weeks. It’s too soon, Adrian!”
Adrian felt a surge of adrenaline explode through his veins. He stood up, gently easing her into the chair, and rushed to the window. Outside, the blizzard had arrived with catastrophic ferocity. The gravel lane was already buried beneath six inches of heavy, drifting snow, and the gale-force winds were bending the coastal pine trees nearly in half. Visibility was down to less than ten feet.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. No service. The storm had knocked out the local cellular towers along the exposed coastline.
He rushed to the cottage’s landline phone on the counter. He lifted the receiver to his ear. Dead.
“Line’s down,” Adrian muttered, his mind rapidly calculating variables with the ice-cold precision that had made him a titan in the business world. Panic would kill them; only action would save them.
He rushed back to Claire’s side. She was breathing heavily, her face pale, her hands trembling as another contraction began to build.
“The local clinic,” Claire whispered through clenched teeth, her eyes wide with terror for her unborn child. “Dr. Henderson’s clinic… it’s four miles down the coastal highway. Adrian, the baby is in distress. I can feel it. He’s not moving like he usually does.”
“I’m getting you there,” Adrian said firmly, his voice steady, projecting an absolute authority that instantly grounded the room. “Listen to me, Claire. Look into my eyes.”
Claire looked up, her vision blurred by tears of pain, locking onto Adrian’s dark, resolute gaze.
“I failed you in Manhattan,” he said fiercely, his hand cupping her cheek, wiping away her tears with his thumb. “I let shadows and lies make a coward out of me. But I will not fail you tonight. I will get you and our son to that doctor if I have to carry you both through the snow on my back. Do you hear me?”
Claire nodded weakly, gripping his collar. “Okay. Okay.”
Adrian moved with lightning speed. He grabbed the thick wool blankets from the bed, wrapping Claire securely from head to toe. He slipped her feet into warm snow boots, zipped her heavy coat over her swollen belly, and lifted her into his arms in a single, fluid motion.
He kicked the front door open into the roaring white abyss of the storm.
The wind hit them like a physical blow, howling like a wild beast. Adrian shielded Claire’s face against his chest, tucking his chin down as the biting ice needles tore into his exposed skin. Every step down the porch was treacherous, but his heavy boots dug into the snow, refusing to slip.
He reached the black sedan, pulled the passenger door open, and gently lowered Claire onto the heated leather seat. He reclined the seat slightly, tucked the blankets tightly around her shivering frame, and slammed the door shut against the gale.
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He sprinted around to the driver's side, jumped in, and fired the engine. The powerful all-wheel-drive motor roared to life with a deep, reassuring rumble.
Adrian slammed the transmission into gear. The tires spun briefly against the slick ice, biting into the frozen gravel beneath, and the heavy vehicle surged forward, plunging directly into the heart of the blinding blizzard.
