Chapter 2 - The Garage on Tuesday
Giselle Vance stepped backward before anyone even uttered her name.
The rustle of her white silk dress was the only sound in the hallway. Her hand twitched, reaching down to pick up her fallen jeweled purse, but she stopped halfway, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and fierce defiance.
"Raymond, don't look at me like that," Giselle said quickly, her voice sharp, high-pitched, and trembling. "She's lying. You know how manipulative she is! She's trying to ruin our wedding day! She planned this!"
Raymond didn't answer right away. He stared at Giselle, his mind racing, trying to piece together the fragments of a story he had ignored for three days.
"Three days ago," Serena said, her voice calm, echoing clearly off the sterile white walls. "Tuesday afternoon."
Raymond turned back to Serena. "What happened on Tuesday?"
Serena looked past Raymond, her eyes fixing squarely on Giselle.
"I had just finished my thirty-two-week high-risk checkup at the medical plaza downtown," Serena recalled, every detail burned into her memory like acid on glass. "I was carrying a small brown paper bag from the pharmacy. It had my prenatal vitamins, a bottle of water, and a pair of tiny blue socks I had just bought from the baby boutique downstairs."
Giselle’s chest rose and fell rapidly. "Shut up, Serena! Just shut your mouth!"
"I was walking toward my car on the second level of the parking garage," Serena continued, completely ignoring Giselle’s outburst. "It was quiet. Most people were at work. I heard heels clicking fast on the concrete behind me."
Serena remembered the moment with terrifying clarity. She had turned around, holding her arm over her swollen belly, only to find Giselle blocking her path beside a gray concrete pillar. Giselle had been wearing an expensive beige trench coat, her face flushed with rage, holding an envelope containing the final guest list for the wedding.
"Giselle confronted me," Serena said quietly. "She accused me of leaking stories to the local society columns about Raymond’s affair. She said I was trying to humiliate her family, that I was using my pregnancy to trap Raymond into paying alimony."
Raymond’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his fiancé. "Giselle... you told me you were at a bridal fitting on Tuesday afternoon."
"I was!" Giselle shrieked, her voice echoing down the hospital corridor. "I went to the fitting right after! Serena is twisting everything! She confronted me!"
"I didn't argue with her," Serena said flatly. "I was tired. My back was aching, and I just wanted to go home. I told her I didn't care about the press, I didn't care about the wedding, and I didn't want Raymond back."
Serena looked directly into Raymond’s eyes.
"I told her five words, Raymond: 'You can have him.'"
Raymond flinched as if he had been struck in the face.
"And those five words," Serena continued, "enraged her more than any tears ever could. Because she realized that the prize she had stolen from me was something I didn't even want anymore."
Serena’s voice hardened slightly, the memory bringing back the surge of pure terror she had felt that afternoon.
"When I tried to walk past her to get into my car, Giselle grabbed my shoulder. She yanked me back. I tried to pull away, and she shoved me. Hard. With both hands, right against my chest."
"Liar!" Giselle screamed, stepping forward, her manicured nails digging into her palms. "You tripped! You were wearing ridiculous shoes and you tripped over your own feet!"
"My heel caught against the concrete parking stop behind me," Serena said, her tone unyielding. "I lost my balance. My back slammed hard against the sharp metal edge of a parked SUV's bumper, and then I hit the concrete floor."
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the hallway.
"The pain was immediate," Serena said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears for the first time that night. "It felt like something tore inside me. I couldn't stand up. The paper bag tore open, and those tiny blue socks fell onto the grease-stained concrete, rolling beneath the car."
Serena took a deep, shaky breath, her hand pressing gently against her bandaged abdomen beneath her coat.
"I looked up at Giselle. I was bleeding through my dress, Raymond. I laid on that freezing concrete floor, holding my belly, and I begged her. I said, 'Please, call an ambulance. My baby.'"
Raymond’s breathing became heavy and ragged. He stared at Giselle, his face twisting in horror. "Giselle... tell me she's lying. Tell me you called for help."
Serena gave a cold, hollow laugh. "She didn't call anyone. Giselle stood over me for three seconds. She looked at the blood on the floor, she looked at me... and then she turned around, got into her car, and drove away."
"No! No!" Giselle panicked, grabbing Raymond’s arm, her fingers clawing into his charcoal suit jacket. "Raymond, listen to me! She fell! I didn't shove her! I panicked because she was bleeding and I thought she was going to blame me! I didn't know the baby was going to come early! I didn't mean for any of this to happen!"
"You left her?" Raymond whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of shock and sudden, sickening realization. "You left a pregnant woman bleeding on a concrete floor in a parking garage?!"
"She provoked me!" Giselle screamed, hysterically trying to shift the blame. "She was being arrogant! She looked down on me! Raymond, you have to believe me, our wedding is tomorrow! Everything is paid for! The press, your family, my father—"
"Shut up!" Raymond roared, shaking her hand off his arm with such force that Giselle stumbled sideways against the wall.
Dr. Albright stepped into the center of the hall, her presence commanding absolute attention.
"Ms. Vance," Dr. Albright said, her voice dropping into an ice-cold register. "You seem to believe this is a matter of personal dispute. Let me make something entirely clear to you."
Dr. Albright pointed toward the security desk at the end of the hall.
"When Mrs. Dillard was brought into the emergency room by a passing bystander who found her unconscious, hospital administration immediately contacted the Richmond Police Department. Because of the nature of her injuries, the parking garage was declared a crime scene."
Giselle’s breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes went wide with pure, unadulterated terror.
"The garage management," Dr. Albright continued calmly, "provided high-definition security footage from Camera 4B. The footage clearly shows you approaching Mrs. Dillard, grabbing her, shoving her onto the concrete, and driving away in your white Mercedes while she was incapacitated."
Giselle froze. Her jaw dropped, but no sound came out of her mouth.
"Hospital security," Dr. Albright added, "has already handed that footage over to the lead investigator."
Before Raymond could even process the weight of Dr. Albright’s words, the heavy chime of the elevator echoed from the end of the corridor.
DING.
The polished brass doors slid open.
Three uniformed police officers stepped out onto the floor, led by a tall, sharp-eyed female detective wearing a charcoal trench coat and carrying a leather badge clip on her belt.
Detective Karen Miller walked straight toward the group, her heavy boots clicking loudly against the tile floor. Her eyes swept over the scene, quickly identifying the key players.
"Giselle Vance?" Detective Miller asked, her voice carrying the absolute authority of the law.
Giselle backed away, her hands shaking hysterically. "No... no, please! My father is Marcus Vance! You can't do this here!"
Detective Miller didn't hesitate. She stepped forward, grabbed Giselle’s wrist, and pulled her arm smoothly behind her back, snapping a cold steel handcuff around her wrist with a sharp, metallic CLICK.
"Giselle Vance," Detective Miller recited calmly, "you are under arrest for aggravated assault, reckless endangerment, and failure to render aid resulting in severe bodily harm."
"Raymond! Help me!" Giselle shrieked, tears finally bursting from her eyes, smearing her expensive mascara across her face as the second handcuff clicked into place. "Raymond, call my father! Call the lawyers! Tell them she's lying!"
Raymond stood completely still. He didn't lift a finger. He didn't step forward. He simply stared at the woman he was supposed to marry in twelve hours, looking at her as if she were a dangerous stranger he had never seen before in his life.
"Raymond!" Giselle screamed as the two uniformed officers grabbed her arms and began walking her toward the elevator doors. "RAYMOND!"
The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off her screams in an instant.
Silence returned to the NICU corridor.
Raymond stood alone under the bright fluorescent lights, his charcoal suit looking crumpled, his expensive white shirt open at the collar, his face completely pale. He looked like a man who had built a palace of cards, only to watch a sudden gust of wind blow it into the sea.
Slowly, Raymond turned back toward Serena.
He took a step forward, his hands trembling, his eyes red and filled with a sudden, desperate regret.
"Serena..." he whispered, his voice cracking. "I... I didn't know. God, Serena, I swear to you, I had no idea Giselle did that to you."
Serena looked at him, her expression unchanging. "It doesn't matter what you knew, Raymond. It only matters who you chose to be."
Raymond took another step, looking past her toward the glass wall, toward ISOLETTE-04.
"He's my son," Raymond said, his voice choking on the words as tears finally spilled over his eyelashes. "Serena, please... let me see him. Let me go inside. He's a Palmer. He's my blood."
May you like
Serena looked at the man who had abandoned her, who had doubted her integrity, who had mocked her pain over the phone less than an hour ago, and who now wanted to claim the child he had left for dead.
"No, Raymond," Serena said, her voice quiet, final, and absolute. "He isn't a Palmer. His name is Hayden Dillard. And you don't belong here."
