Chapter 8 - The Night the Baby Almost Came Too EarlyThe first warning came at 6:12 p.m.
Maren was in Dana's kitchen, preparing a small dinner, when the front security guard reported a suspicious vehicle parked across the street.
A gray SUV.
Tinted windows.
Engine running.
It had passed the property three times that afternoon.
Dana immediately called their security contractor.
By 6:30, the SUV was gone.
By seven, Maren had almost convinced herself she was overreacting.
Then a package arrived.
No name.
No courier tracking.
Just a plain white box.
Inside was the knitted rabbit from the nursery.
The one Maren had packed when she left Everett.
Except this rabbit was not hers.
Hers was beside her bed.
This one was identical.
Same pale yellow yarn.
Same crooked left ear.
Same unfinished blue ribbon.
Maren stared at it.
Dana took the box away.
“Don't touch anything else.”
At the bottom was a folded card.
You cannot protect her forever.
Maren stepped backward.
The room tilted.
Her daughter moved sharply.
Dana called Everett.
He arrived with Naomi and two security specialists twenty minutes later.
When he saw the rabbit, his face became white with rage.
“Where did this come from?”
“We're preserving the packaging,” Naomi said. “The police have been contacted.”
Everett turned toward Maren.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded.
Then shook her head.
“I don't know.”
He approached slowly.
“Can I hold you?”
The question almost broke her.
She had spent years accustomed to him touching her without asking.
A hand on her back.
A kiss on her forehead.
His fingers finding hers beneath a dinner table.
Now every gesture felt fragile.
She nodded.
Everett wrapped his arms around her.
Maren buried her face against his chest.
For the first time in days, she let herself cry without trying to remain composed.
“I hate this,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I hate being afraid in someone else's house.”
“I know.”
“I hate that she's making me wonder whether every stranger is following me.”
Everett closed his eyes.
“She doesn't get to keep doing this.”
Maren pulled away.
“Then help the police stop her.”
“I will.”
“And don't do anything reckless.”
He almost smiled.
“You know me.”
“Yes,” Maren said. “That's why I'm asking.”
The situation changed an hour later.
Naomi received confirmation that the SUV had been registered through a rental agency.
The account holder was a company connected to Victor Sloane.
The same contractor Celeste had used for private security work.
Naomi immediately forwarded the information to the investigating authorities.
But the threatening package was more difficult to trace.
The handwriting did not match Celeste's known samples.
The packaging contained no obvious identifying information.
Everett arranged for Maren to stay at a secure residence owned by Dana's family.
It was a small estate in Westchester, equipped with professional security and far removed from the Vale properties.
Maren agreed.
Not because she was surrendering control.
Because she was choosing safety.
At 10:45, they left in two vehicles.
Dana drove with Maren.
Everett followed in a separate car.
Naomi coordinated with security.
Rain began as they crossed the city.
Then the storm intensified.
Maren watched headlights blur across the wet road.
She had nearly fallen asleep when Dana's phone rang.
The security lead was calling.
Dana answered through the car's speaker.
“We have an issue.”
“What kind?”
“A vehicle behind the second car may be following the convoy.”
Dana glanced in her mirror.
“Are you certain?”
“Not yet. We are changing the route and contacting local police.”
Maren's pulse quickened.
She looked behind them.
Several cars moved through the rain.
One set of headlights remained unusually close.
Dana's hands tightened on the wheel.
“Keep breathing normally,” she told Maren.
Maren tried.
Then she felt a sudden pain low in her abdomen.
Sharp.
Unfamiliar.
She inhaled.
Dana noticed.
“Maren?”
“I'm fine.”
Another pain came.
Stronger.
Maren gripped the door handle.
“Dana.”
Her voice changed.
Dana looked over.
“What?”
“I think something's wrong.”
Dana immediately pulled into a well-lit service area where security had arranged a safe stop.
Everett arrived moments later.
Maren was bent forward in the passenger seat, breathing through another contraction.
He opened the door.
“Maren?”
She looked up at him.
“Something hurts.”
The terror in her voice was unlike anything he had ever heard.
He crouched beside her.
“Where?”
She placed a hand low on her belly.
“Here. It keeps happening.”
Everett looked toward Dana.
“Call Dr. Porter.”
Dana already had her phone out.
The physician instructed them to proceed directly to the nearest hospital equipped for high-risk obstetric care.
Within minutes, Maren was being evaluated.
Everett stood beside her hospital bed while nurses monitored the baby's heart rate and her contractions.
His hands were shaking.
He tried to hide it.
Maren noticed.
“Everett.”
He looked at her.
“Don't look like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like someone told you the world is ending.”
He swallowed.
“I'm trying.”
She reached for his hand.
He took it immediately.
The medical team explained that Maren was experiencing preterm contractions and needed monitoring and treatment based on the clinical findings.
Her cervix was not showing significant change at that point, but the situation required observation.
For several hours, neither knew whether the contractions would settle.
Everett remained beside her.
He called no executives.
Checked no stock prices.
Answered no business messages.
When Robert called, Everett said only, “My wife is in the hospital. Handle it.”
Then he turned off his phone.
At two in the morning, Maren opened her eyes.
Everett sat in a chair beside the bed.
His forehead rested against their joined hands.
He was crying.
Quietly.
Trying not to wake her.
Maren watched him.
For so long, she had thought of him as invulnerable.
The man who never lost control.
The man who could walk into a room filled with hostile executives and make them listen with one sentence.
Now his shoulders shook.
She moved her fingers.
He lifted his head immediately.
“Are you in pain?”
“No.”
“Do you need the nurse?”
“No.”
He stared at her.
Maren whispered, “You're crying.”
He looked away.
“Sorry.”
“Don't apologize.”
He breathed unsteadily.
“I thought I might lose you both.”
Her own eyes filled.
“Everett.”
“I thought about every stupid meeting. Every night I came home late. Every time you asked me what was wrong and I told you not to worry.”
He looked at her.
“I would give anything to have those nights back.”
Maren squeezed his hand.
“You can't.”
“I know.”
“But you can stop wasting the ones we have left.”
He nodded.
She closed her eyes.
“I'm still angry with you.”
“I know.”
“I'm still not ready to come home.”
“I understand.”
“But I don't want you to disappear.”
Everett moved closer.
“I won't.”
She looked at him.
“Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“If we get through this, we don't go back to pretending.”
He nodded.
“No more secrets.”
“No more deciding what I can handle.”
“No more.”
She studied his face.
“And if we're going to be parents together, we learn how to disagree without shutting each other out.”
Everett kissed her hand.
“Yes.”
At dawn, the contractions had eased.
The monitoring was reassuring.
Dr. Porter explained that Maren would need follow-up care, clear instructions about warning symptoms, and a plan for reducing avoidable stressors.
The immediate crisis had passed.
But it had changed something.
Everett no longer cared whether he returned to his executive office.
Maren no longer cared whether anyone in the Vale family approved of her.
Their daughter had nearly arrived before she was ready.
And all either parent wanted was to keep her safe.
That morning, Naomi called the hospital.
Celeste's situation had changed dramatically.
Investigators had obtained records linking Meridian Consulting to the forged trust documents.
Serena Pike had formally provided her communications and payment records to authorities.
Lionel Barr had signed a detailed statement, including admissions about his own misconduct.
And the financial evidence from the Connecticut house had been preserved.
But Celeste had disappeared.
Her apartment was empty.
Her personal driver hadn't seen her.
Her phone was turned off.
She had missed an emergency meeting with her attorneys.
Everett listened without interrupting.
Then he looked at Maren, asleep in the hospital bed.
“What do the investigators think?”
Naomi hesitated.
“They believe she may be attempting to leave the country.”
Everett's expression hardened.
“And Victor Sloane?”
“He's cooperating through counsel. He claims Celeste asked him to locate Serena and recover documents, but he denies carrying out the threatening incidents.”
“Do they believe him?”
“They're checking.”
Everett looked out the window.
“Find my sister before she hurts anyone else.”
Naomi was quiet.
Then she said something he would remember for years.
“Everett, she may not be trying to escape.”
He frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Her attorney received a message from her last night.”
“What did it say?”
May you like
Naomi took a breath.
“She said she still had one thing left to settle.”
