Chapter 8 - The Sound Of A Mended Heart
The kitchen island was quickly cleared to make room for Dr. Hayes’s compact, high-resolution ultrasound monitor.
The atmosphere inside the brownstone shifted from tense apprehension to clinical quiet.
Sophie sat atop the butcher-block counter, swinging her legs nervously while holding Grace’s hand.
Julian stood ten feet back against the kitchen doorframe.
He had removed his wet shoes at the threshold, standing in his socks on the hardwood floor, his arms held rigidly against his sides as if he feared touching anything in the house would shatter the fragile peace.
His eyes never left Sophie.
“This will just feel like a little bit of warm jelly, sweetheart,” Dr. Hayes said with a warm, grandfatherly smile.
He placed the warm transducer gently against the base of Sophie’s throat, angling the beam downward toward her aortic arch.
The screen flickered to life in shades of black, gray, and pulsing crimson.
A rhythmic, oceanic sound filled the quiet kitchen.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
The amplified sound of Sophie’s heart echoed off the high plaster ceilings.
Julian let out a sharp, audible gasp from the doorway, his hand flying to his mouth.
He closed his eyes, his entire six-foot-two frame trembling as he listened to the steady, powerful rhythm.
It was the first time in five years he had ever heard his daughter’s heart beat.
Dr. Hayes adjusted the color Doppler frequency.
The screen bloomed with vibrant blue and red ribbons of blood flowing smoothly through the arterial branch.
“Take a look, Dr. Brooks,” Hayes murmured, gesturing for me to inspect the flow velocity measurements.
“Velocity is one point two meters per second.”
“No turbulence.”
“No calcification along the synthetic suture line.”
“The tissue has expanded perfectly with her somatic growth.”
“Her repair is completely stable.”
I let out a breath I felt like I had been holding since that terrifying hospital room five years ago.
Tears blurred my vision as I leaned down and pressed my forehead against Sophie’s temple.
“You hear that, baby?”
“Your heart is strong like a little lion.”
“I told you I was brave!” Sophie beamed, turning to look at Julian across the room.
Julian was weeping openly now.
He didn't wipe the tears away; he let them track down his hollow cheeks and drop onto the collar of his damp sweater.
“She is magnificent, Evelyn,” Julian whispered, his voice shattered with reverent awe.
“She is perfect.”
Dr. Hayes methodically wiped the ultrasound gel from Sophie’s chest and began packing his portable gear into the black pelican case.
“I will leave my direct mobile number on the counter, Dr. Brooks.”
“Though from what I see here, this young lady will not need another imaging checkup until she turns ten.”
Marcus walked Dr. Hayes out to the front foyer, leaving the four of us in the warm glow of the kitchen.
Emma hopped off her barstool and trotted directly over to Julian, stopping three inches from his knees.
She tilted her head all the way back to look up at his towering frame.
“Why do you cry so much, mister?”
Julian dropped slowly to his knees, bringing his eyes level with hers.
He kept his hands tucked safely against his thighs, never attempting to touch her without permission.
“I am crying because I was very foolish for a very long time, Emma.”
“And now I am looking at something so beautiful that my chest feels too small to hold it all.”
Emma reached out a chubby finger and poked Julian’s left cheek, right into the deep dimple carved into his skin.
“You have a hole in your face just like Sophie!”
Julian let out a wet, breathless laugh, the sound catching in his throat.
“Yes, I do.”
“Sophie got that hole from me.”
Grace walked over slowly, standing beside her twin sister with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Are you going to yell again like you did at the school?”
Julian looked directly into Grace’s analytical gray-green eyes, his expression solemn and completely earnest.
“Never around you.”
“Never in this house.”
“I yelled today because a bad person was trying to scare you, and it made me lose my temper.”
“I should have protected you without being loud.”
“I am very sorry if I frightened you, Grace.”
Grace considered his answer for several silent seconds, her small brow furrowing just the way Julian’s did during patent negotiations.
“Apology accepted on probation,” Grace declared with terrifying maturity.
Julian blinked in surprise, then bowed his head with profound respect.
“Thank you, Grace.”
“Probation is far more generous than I deserve.”
I stepped between them, resting my hands on Emma and Grace’s shoulders.
“Bedtime, girls.”
“No more questions tonight.”
“Say goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Julian,” Grace and Emma said in unison.
Sophie lingered for a moment, her small hand reaching out to touch the white gauze wrapped around his bruised knuckles.
“Put ice on that before you go to sleep,” she instructed bossily.
“Ice stops the swelling.”
Julian’s lips trembled as he managed a faint, adoring smile.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Ice it is.”
The girls trotted up the stairs, their footsteps fading into the second-floor hallway.
Julian remained on his knees on the hardwood floor, his head bowed, his hands resting flat against his thighs.
“You can stand up now, Julian,” I said, crossing my arms as I leaned against the kitchen counter.
He rose slowly, looking at me with an intensity that made the room feel uncomfortably warm.
“Thank you, Evelyn.”
“For what?”
“For not telling them that their father was a monster.”
“I didn't do it for you,” I answered cold and steady.
“I did it because my daughters deserve to grow up without hate rotting their foundation.”
Julian nodded slowly, accepting the rebuke without a word of defense.
“Victoria’s legal team filed an emergency bail revocation petition an hour ago,” he said, shifting back to reality.
“The state prosecutor found three shell companies she used to siphon off twenty-two million dollars from the Vance foundation.”
“She will be in Cook County lockup by midnight.”
“Good,” I said.
“Then our agreement stands.”
“You stay behind the perimeter.”
“One weekly report from Marcus.”
“And no surprise appearances.”
Julian reached into his pocket and placed a set of heavy brass keys on the marble counter.
“These belong to the private hangar at Midway Airport.”
“There is a Gulfstream G650 registered under Bio-Pure Dynamics.”
“The fuel accounts and flight crew retainers are fully funded for the next ten years in your company’s name.”
“I don't want your private jet, Julian.”
“It’s not for you, Evelyn,” Julian replied softly, his voice full of an ache that went bone-deep.
“If there is ever an emergency—medical, legal, or personal—I want you and those girls to have the means to leave this city in twenty minutes flat.”
May you like
“Even if you are running away from me.”
Before I could tell him to take the keys back, Julian Vance turned, opened the rear door, and walked out into the pouring rain without an umbrella.
