Chapter 5 - The Little Girl Who Needed a Father
By the time I reached St. Catherine's Hospital, Daniel was standing outside the pediatric emergency department.
His shirt was wrinkled.
His hair was disheveled.
There was a streak of dried blood on his sleeve.
"Where is she?"
He pointed toward the double doors.
"Inside."
I tried to walk past him, but he caught my arm.
"Wait."
I turned.
"Get your hand off me."
"Listen to me. You don't get to walk in there and make this about yourself."
"My daughter is sick."
"And Claire is terrified. She hasn't stopped shaking since the ambulance arrived."
I looked through the glass.
Claire sat in a chair, holding a tiny pink sweater.
Her face was pale.
Her eyes were swollen.
For a moment, I saw the woman who used to sit beside me when I was sick, pressing a cool cloth against my forehead.
I had no right to expect that woman to still be there.
"What's happening to Emma?" I asked.
Daniel rubbed his face.
"She developed a high fever. Then she started having trouble breathing."
"Does she have a medical condition?"
He looked away.
"She has a congenital heart problem."
The words struck me.
"What?"
"The doctors discovered it when she was six months old. She's been monitored ever since."
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Daniel stared at me.
"Because you weren't there."
I swallowed.
"Is it serious?"
"Sometimes. The specialists have been discussing surgery."
"Then I'll pay for it."
He shook his head.
"Of course you will."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you think every problem disappears when you write a check."
"I can get her the best surgeon in the country."
"She doesn't need a billionaire, Alexander. She needs people who don't disappear when things get difficult."
I had no answer.
A doctor emerged through the doors.
"Mrs. Hayes?"
Claire immediately stood.
"How is my daughter?"
"We've stabilized her breathing. Her fever is coming down, but we need to investigate the underlying cardiac issue."
"Is she going to be okay?"
"We're cautiously optimistic."
Claire covered her mouth.
I stepped forward.
"Doctor, I'm her biological father."
Claire turned sharply.
The doctor looked between us.
"Are you listed as an emergency contact?"
"No," Claire answered.
I felt the shame of that single word.
The doctor nodded.
"Then I'll need to speak with the child's legal guardian about the medical history and consent process."
"I'm her mother," Claire said.
"That's fine. Please come with me."
Claire followed the doctor.
I remained in the hallway.
Daniel sat down.
For the first time, he looked exhausted rather than angry.
"How long have you been helping her?" I asked.
"Since she left your house."
"Three years?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
He looked at me.
"Because I knew Claire before she married you."
I frowned.
"What?"
"We worked at the same hospital charity when we were younger. She was volunteering while finishing her degree. She was the kindest person in the room, even when everyone else treated her like an inconvenience."
I looked toward the doors.
"Why didn't she tell me about the children?"
Daniel sighed.
"Because she was afraid."
"Of me?"
"Of what you represented."
I wanted to argue.
But he continued.
"After the divorce, Claire received a threatening message. Someone told her that if you discovered the pregnancy, the children would be taken away. At first, she thought it was a cruel joke. Then someone broke into her apartment."
My blood ran cold.
"What?"
"She came home one evening and found the nursery destroyed. The ultrasound photographs were scattered across the floor. Someone had written a message on the wall."
"What message?"
Daniel looked directly at me.
THE MORETTI FAMILY DOES NOT SHARE WHAT BELONGS TO IT.
I felt my hands go numb.
"Why didn't she report it?"
"She did. But there was no evidence. And then a black car began following her."
I thought of my father.
"Did you see the car?"
"Several times."
"Did you get the license plate?"
"Yes."
I turned toward him.
"Why didn't you tell the police?"
"I did. The registration came back to a company that no longer existed."
My father's company.
I knew it before Daniel said another word.
Then a small voice came from behind the glass.
"Mommy?"
Claire rushed into the room.
I stood on my toes, trying to see.
Emma was awake.
She was lying in a hospital bed with a small oxygen tube beneath her nose.
Oliver sat beside her, holding her hand.
My son looked frightened.
"Don't worry," he whispered to his sister. "I'm here."
I felt tears burning behind my eyes.
I had missed every moment that made them who they were.
Their first words.
Their first steps.
Their first birthdays.
I had never held either of them as newborns.
And now I was standing outside a hospital room, unable to even introduce myself.
Claire came out a few minutes later.
"She wants Oliver to stay with her."
"Can I see her?"
Claire hesitated.
Then she shook her head.
"Not today."
I looked down.
"Okay."
She seemed surprised that I didn't argue.
"I'll arrange the DNA test," she said. "If you want legal confirmation, we can do that."
"I don't need a test to know."
"You said you needed proof."
"I was wrong."
Her eyes filled with something I couldn't identify.
Anger, perhaps.
Or disappointment.
"Alexander, don't make promises you can't keep."
"I won't."
"You said that before."
"I know."
She turned to leave.
"Claire."
She stopped.
"How much is the surgery?"
Her shoulders stiffened.
"That's not your concern."
"She's my daughter. It is my concern."
"She has insurance."
"I can help."
"Why? So you can buy yourself a place in her life?"
I had no answer.
Then Daniel appeared behind her.
"Claire, the doctor wants to discuss the surgery schedule."
She nodded and walked away.
Daniel followed.
But before he disappeared, he turned back.
"There's something else you should know."
I waited.
"Emma's specialist has been trying to contact a surgeon in Boston. Someone has been blocking the referral."
"Who?"
Daniel lowered his voice.
"The person responsible for the children's medical trust."
I frowned.
"What trust?"
"The one that pays for their treatment."
I stared at him.
"Claire controls that trust."
"Not anymore."
My heart stopped.
"What do you mean?"
Daniel took out his phone and showed me a document.
The children's medical trust had been amended six months earlier.
The new trustee was listed as:
Vincent Moretti.
I looked up.
"Your father has control of my children's medical care?"
Daniel nodded.
"And yesterday, the trust received an instruction to suspend payment for Emma's specialist treatment."
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
My father wasn't simply hiding from me.
He was reaching into my children's lives.
May you like
And he had just made one mistake.
He had given me a reason to fight him that money could never buy.
