Chapter 2 - The Warmth of Grant Vale
The interior of the custom SUV felt like another planet. The air smelled of expensive leather, faint cedar, and clean heat that blasted from vents positioned along the dashboard and seats.
Grant Vale moved with urgent precision. He didn't just dump the children onto the leather seats; he gently lifted Maisie from the wooden sled, wrapping his heavy cashmere coat around her frozen bundle before cradling her against his chest. He helped Sadi climb into the heated passenger seat, gently pulling off her soaked mittens and stiff canvas boots.
"Hold this," Grant commanded softly, placing a thermal flask of warm broth into Sadi’s shaking hands. "Small sips. Don't drink too fast."
Grant slammed the door, shutting out the howling blizzard. He jumped into the driver's seat, hit the ignition, and pressed a button on the steering wheel.
"Marcus, clear the private emergency entrance at Saint Jude’s Children’s Hospital," Grant said into the hands-free system, his voice shifting instantly into the tone of a man used to commanding empires. "I have two pediatric hypothermia cases. One infant, seventeen months old, severe cyanosis. One eight-year-old female, moderate exposure. Have Dr. Vance and a trauma team waiting at the bay in ten minutes."
"Understood, Mr. Vale," a calm voice replied over the speakers. "Traffic control has been notified. Sirens are clear."
Sadi sat frozen in the leather seat, clutching the warm flask. Her fingers, returning to life, burned with a agonizing, prickling pain. She watched Grant through her peripheral vision. He was holding Maisie with one arm pressed against his chest—using his own body heat to warm the baby—while his other hand steered the massive vehicle through the blinding whiteout.
"Is she... is she going to die?" Sadi whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of six hours of terror.
Grant glanced at Sadi, his dark eyes filled with absolute sincerity. "Not on my watch, Sadi. I promise you."
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As the vehicle accelerated through the snow, Sadi looked back out the rear window. The broken homemade sled—the piece of wood her late father had crafted—lay abandoned in the middle of the snow-covered road, slowly being buried by the storm.
For the first time in six months, Sadi let out a ragged sob. She wasn't standing on the ice anymore. But as the warmth of the car sank into her bones, a new terror took hold: what would happen when the hospital asked who owned these two forgotten girls?
