Hospital.

The hurried slap of footsteps echoed through the hushed corridors, slicing through the oppressive stillness.

Nanette and Finley looked up at the sound, and there, finally, was Victor-the man they'd been searching for all this time.

Victor looked frantic. Veins stood out at his temples, his dress shirt and slacks rumpled and sweat-stained, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. "Where's Isadora?" he demanded, voice raw. "Where is she?"

Nanette sprang to her feet the moment she saw him, her emotions boiling over. "Victor, what took you so long? If anything happens to Isadora, I swear, you'll answer to me first!"

Finley gently held Nanette back. "Enough. Don't," he said quietly.

He turned to Victor. "Isadora's still in the delivery room. She hasn't come out yet."

Victor's gaze shot to the closed door down the hall, its red warning light glaring like an accusation.

Every muscle in his body tensed. He forced out the words, his voice tight. "I'm going in. She shouldn't be alone."

After a few quick words with the doctor, Finley nodded.

Victor wasted no time he pulled on a sterile gown, scrubbed his hands, and strode inside.

The delivery room was thick with tension, the air heavy with anxiety.

sharp, agonized cry cut

bed, clutching the rails with white-knuckled hands. Sweat beaded on her brow, soaking

gently, "Mrs. Fitzgerald, just a little

with helplessness and guilt, and he rushed to her side, gripping her

He clung to her hand as if it were

out her name. "Isadora! Isadora,

pain, his grip grounding her as she forced her eyes open. There he was-the

blurred with

in two, the pain sharp and overwhelming.

voice broke in, urgent. "Mrs. Fitzgerald, almost there! One more

face was paper white, her breath ragged, but

And then-

bright, like the first light

loudly, "Congratulations, Mr. Fitzgerald. It's a

*

suite was hushed, as peaceful as

and serene, her pale cheeks

sat at her side, silent,

his own, presse to his check as if he

she had written her handwriting neat,

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