The following day, my hospital room door opened. Jason walked in. He wasn’t alone. A woman stepped in behind him, impeccably dressed, a new wedding band gleaming as she lifted her chin and studied me like I was on display. Her smile was polite but empty.
“Hi,” she said softly, then glanced at Jason as if to gauge his reaction. She turned to the nurse beside my bed and said clearly: “She’s my CEO.”
Jason staggered back. And for the first time in our entire marriage, he looked at me like he was staring at something unreal.
When the door opened again, it wasn’t a physician stepping inside. It was my attorney, Margaret Sloan, accompanied by a hospital security officer. Margaret had a presence that straightened spines without effort. A slim folder rested beneath her arm, but the real weight she carried was certainty. Jason’s shoulders stiffened, as if he could physically obstruct what was unfolding.
Margaret didn’t acknowledge him. She looked at me first, then at my baby in the bassinet, then back at me—as if confirming I was still intact.
“Emily,” she said quietly, for me alone, “are you able to proceed?”
I nodded. My voice wasn’t steady enough yet. Margaret turned to the officer. “This is the individual I referenced. He is not authorized to be present. He previously forced Ms. Carter out of her residence while she was in active labor.”
Jason snapped toward her. “Excuse me? Who are you?”
“I’m legal counsel,” Margaret replied, calm but unyielding. “And you are trespassing in my client’s medical space.”
Madeline shifted slightly, clearing Margaret’s path to my bedside. The tension between them was subtle but unmistakable—two women fluent in power, only one of whom had chosen her side decisively.
Jason lifted his hands in feigned disbelief. “I’m her husband.”
Margaret’s gaze didn’t waver. “You entered into another marriage. That fact alone will be addressed in multiple proceedings.”
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