Chapter 3 - Midnight Awakening Of The Matriarch
The phone rang three long times before a crisp, aristocratic voice answered.
"This is Barbara Vance. State your business."
The absolute lack of warmth in her tone almost made me hang up on the spot.
Barbara was known throughout the county as an unyielding, sharp-tongued woman who ran a historic commercial real estate firm with an iron fist.
When Eric and I announced our engagement four years ago, she had warned him that I was too naive and that he was too weak to be a real man.
We had severed ties with her after a bitter argument over dinner during our first holiday season.
"Barbara... it's Maya," I stammered, my voice cracking uncontrollably.
A brief silence settled over the line, heavy with suspicion.
"Maya? Why are you calling my private line? If Eric wants another loan, tell him his inheritance is still tied up in probate."
"Eric doesn't know I'm calling," I choked out, a sob finally escaping my throat.
"I don't need a loan for myself, Barbara. I'm calling from the side of the road with your granddaughter."
The silence on the other end transformed instantly from irritation into absolute stillness.
"My what?" Barbara’s voice dropped an octave, razor-sharp and dangerously low.
"Chloe. She was born four days ago via emergency C-section."
"She's in respiratory distress and I can't afford the medication because Eric emptied our entire bank account before walking out."
"He didn't just leave, Barbara... he took every penny of our seventy-thousand-dollar savings to spend on his mistress."
"We just went to his house to ask for help with her nebulizer, and he locked the door in our faces and called her a brat."
For nearly thirty seconds, there was no sound from Barbara’s end except the faint rustle of fabric.
"He didn't even tell me you were pregnant," she finally whispered, her voice trembling with an emotion I had never heard in her before.
"Where are you right now, Maya?"
"I'm sitting in the parking lot of the community pharmacy on Fourth Street."
"Stay exactly where you are," she commanded, the steel returning to her voice with terrifying intensity. "Do not move an inch. I'll be there soon."
Forty minutes later, a midnight-blue luxury sedan swept into the half-empty pharmacy parking lot.
The headlights cut through the gloom, illuminating my beat-up car.
The driver's door opened, and Barbara Vance stepped out into the damp night air.
She was wearing a long wool trench coat thrown haphazardly over silk pajamas, her silver hair pinned up in a hurried twist.
She walked with a purposeful, swift stride directly toward my passenger door.
She opened it without ceremony, her eyes immediately scanning the backseat where Chloe lay strapped in her carrier.
Barbara didn't say a single word to me initially.
She leaned in, unbuckled the carrier with surprisingly tender precision, and lifted the tiny bundle into her arms.
The stern, formidable businesswoman seemed to melt into pure stone stillness as she pulled back the receiving blanket.
Chloe let out a tiny, fragile whimper, her chest straining against her miniature onesie.
Barbara lifted one trembling finger and let Chloe’s miniature hand curl around her manicured knuckle.
Tears welled up in Barbara’s steely gray eyes, pooling along her lower lashes without falling.
"She has my grandmother’s chin," Barbara murmured softly, her voice barely louder than a breeze.
She gently brushed her thumb over Chloe’s forehead, her expression darkening into sheer fury as she looked at me.
"How long has she been breathing like this?" Barbara demanded, her gaze fixing onto my pale, sweat-sheened face.
"Since this morning. The doctor said she needs uninterrupted breathing treatments every four hours."
Barbara reached into her designer handbag, pulled out a black titanium credit card, and thrust it into my lap.
"Go inside that pharmacy right now and buy every single vial, machine, and monitor that the doctor ordered."
"If they don't have it in stock, make them call the regional distributor to deliver it overnight."
"Charge everything to that card. Do you understand me?"
"Barbara, I can't possibly pay you back—"
"Did I ask for payment, Maya?" she cut in, her eyes flashing with cold fire.
May you like
"You are carrying my flesh and blood, and my worthless excuse for a son left you to rot on the pavement."
"Go get the medicine. We have a war to plan."
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