A Billionaire's Secret Baby - Chapter 29

She was brave, was my little girl. Brave from beginning to end. All the nurses said so.

“You’ve been a pleasure to take care of,” smiled the nurse, as she kneeled down and put the colorful plaster on the tiny cut on Macy’s head.

“Is my mommy okay?” she said.

“Well, she looks okay to me,” said the nurse, standing up and smiling at me. “Cute kid,” she said.

“Is that it?” I said. “Nothing else?”

“She’s probably going to have a few nightmares,” said the pediatrician. “Who wouldn’t after that?”

“Well, nightmares are fine. We can cope with nightmares.”

“If there’s anything either of you find it hard to cope with,” said the doctor. “You can call me. And I’ll give you something light to sleep later.”

“I think we need it,” I said.

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight, mommy?” said Macy, looking up at me. I brushed her hair off her face. My daughter. The most resilient little girl in the world.

“You’re sleeping in my bed every night for a week,” I said sternly. “No arguments.”

The children’s ward was empty at this time of night. It was quiet as I led Macy out, hand in hand. She was shaken and traumatized and totally in shock, but she was fine, thank the stars, she was fine.

I led my little girl out by the hand and through the ward. All around us, I could hear the beeping of machines, the low noise of monitors, and quiet conversations between doctors and nurses.

I left the children’s ward with Macy, and the elevator doors were sliding shut when a rough, dark voice said, “HEY!”

I looked up, still panicked, still wondering who it was.

“Oh,” I said, and put a hand in the elevator. “It’s you.”

Russell O’Rourke was standing there, and as the door thunked open again, he stepped in. Macy backed up.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” I said, giving her a reassuring glance. “This is the man who saved you.”

“Judging by what the ballistics guys have just told me,” growled O’Rourke, “it was Mr. Lowe who saved the two of you.”

I lowered my eyes, and felt a rush of blood spread to my cheeks.

“Mister Alex was the hero,” said Macy, and suddenly I felt tears rushing up through my body.

“Yeah,” I said. “He was.” And I began to cry.

***

Sara came to sit with Macy for a while. There was something I knew I had to do. If I didn’t do it now, I wouldn’t sleep a wink. And more than anything, I needed to sleep now. Needed to know that the nightmare was over.

Only, it wasn’t.

Because Alex hadn’t woken up yet.

When Luca had gone over the side, Alex had gone with him. Luca was handcuffed to a bed in a different hospital somewhere. He was medicated out of his mind, but O’Rourke mentioned to me in the hallway that there was enough evidence to put him away for good.

“Charges against your husband will be dropped in the morning,” he told me gravely. “And I’d like to apologize on behalf of the NYPD for everything we’d put him through.”

“He’s not my husband,” I sighed.

“That’s not the kind of thing you want to say to me, Mrs. Lowe,” he said, as he walked away. “But I’ll be in touch, nonetheless.”

As a matter of fact, he wasn’t. I didn’t see Russell O’Rourke ever again.

Speaking of people who’d run off, Max had made himself scarce after we got out of the building. He’d slipped away and (unbelievably) stolen Alex’s car and driven off. I guess he knew that if anyone was getting arrested besides Luca, it would be him.

So I went upstairs to a private room at the top of the hospital. Outside in the darkness, I could see the lights of Brooklyn shining somewhere in the distance. I went down a long corridor, at the end of which was a police escort. They were keeping a close eye on Alex’s room, knowing as they did that Luca’s cronies weren’t locked up yet.

“I’m, uh, Mrs. Lowe,” I said.

“Of course. Come through, ma’am,” said one of the two cops. They stepped aside, and I passed into a white room.

And there he was. Looking handsome, looking peaceful. Alex’s sharp chin was dug into his chest, and his dark hair was tangled and matted in the bed, still soaked with sweat. But when I came by his side and knelt down at the bed, I could smell his scent, and that was the worst of all.

“I wanted to come by,” I said. They say that people in comas or who just won’t wake up can hear you talking. I prayed that was true.

I wanted you to come by, I imagined him saying to me. Funny how now, when I saw things, I kept hearing Alex’s voice, wondering what he’d say about them.

“First of all, I guess I wanted to say I’m angry with you,” I said, and laughed at how ridiculous that sounded. “Because you put yourself in danger,” I said. “You put yourself in so much danger.”

So did you.

“But you didn’t have to, Alex,” I said. “I had to. But not you. You could have walked away.”

She’s my daughter too, I imagined him saying.

How had I gone all these years without telling him? And how had I not remembered what I’d written down on a birth certificate one fateful evening, when, just like now, I was tired and exhausted in a hospital room?

“I’m glad you knew before the end,” I said, and I felt tears welling up inside of me.

Me too.

“Only, there’s something I needed to tell you, and now…” I sobbed. “Now I don’t know if I will. So please wake up, Alex. Please just wake up.” I bowed my head.

“I love you,” I told him. I’d known it for so long now. Maybe since forever. And maybe it didn’t matter.

If only he’d wake up and tell me the same thing.

I love you too.

“I love you too,” whispered a familiar, dark voice.

And I looked up, into pale, blue eyes that were shining at me.