Chapter 4 - The Billionaire Arrives
A sleek black Maybach glided down the dilapidated street, pulling up directly in front of the brownstone. Passersby stared in disbelief as the luxury vehicle stopped in a neighborhood where limousines only ever appeared for crime scenes.
The rear door opened, and William Parker stepped out, offering a hand to help Emma down. Noah was sleeping soundly in a brand-new, high-end carrier William had bought her during a hasty ten-minute detour at a baby boutique. Bags of groceries, fresh formula, and medical supplies filled the trunk of the car.
“Is this it?” William asked, looking up at the peeling paint and broken intercoms of the building.
“Yes,” Emma said, suddenly feeling a wave of self-consciousness. She looked down at her clothes, wishing she lived somewhere cleaner, somewhere that didn't smell like damp plaster and poverty. “Apartment 4B. Up the stairs.”
William placed a warm, reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Lead the way, Emma.”
They climbed the four flights of stairs in silence. When they reached the door of 4B, Emma noticed something strange immediately.
The door was unlocked, pushed open an inch.
“Grandma?” Emma called out, her heart skipping a beat. “Grandma, we’re home! And look, I brought groceries—!”
She pushed the door open fully. The apartment was freezing. The front window was rattling against the wind.
“Grandma?” Emma shouted louder, dropping the grocery bags as panic seized her chest.
She sprinted down the narrow hallway toward the bedroom, William close behind her. They rounded the corner into the bedroom, and Emma let out a blood-curdling scream that echoed off the peeling wallpaper.
Martha lay motionless on the floor beside the bed, face pale, her lips tinged with a faint blue.
“Grandma! Wake up! Please wake up!” Emma sobbed, dropping to her knees and shaking her frail shoulders.
William reacted instantly. He dropped to the floor beside them, pressing two fingers against Martha’s carotid artery. Faint. Thready. But there was still a pulse.
“She’s alive, Emma, but barely,” William said firmly, pulling out his phone. He dialed an emergency line with practiced speed. “Dispatch a private medical helicopter to the roof of Mount Sinai immediately, and have an advanced life support team sent to this address—now. Use my corporate override.”
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He hung up, scooped the unconscious woman up into his arms with surprising strength, and looked down at Emma, who was trembling violently.
“We’re going to save her, Emma,” William promised. “I swear it to you.”
