Chapter 6 - RACHEL’S VOICE
In SICU Room 12 at St. Jude's Hospital, the quiet hum of heart monitors provided a steady rhythm to the afternoon.
Rachel Morgan sat propped up in her hospital bed. Her face was still pale, but the color was gradually returning to her cheeks. Her right hand remained suspended in the rigid brace, resting gently on a pillow.
Beside her bed sat Mark Vance and Dr. Maya Bennett, who had snuck back into the hospital under Mark's legal protection as a designated medical expert for the defense.
Rachel held a small, framed ultrasound photograph in her left hand—a picture of baby Noah taken that morning in the NICU.
"He's still on the cooling blanket?" Rachel asked, her voice raspy and fragile, tears pooling in her eyes.
"Yes," Maya said, gently touching Rachel's left shoulder. "The seventy-two-hour cooling protocol ends tonight at midnight. That's when Dr. Vance and his team will slowly warm his body back to normal temperature and remove the breathing tube. That will be the true test."
Rachel looked up at Maya, her eyes filled with an overwhelming blend of pain and gratitude. "You saved him, Dr. Bennett. When they pushed me through those doors... I heard your voice. You were the only one who listened."
"We are all fighting for you, Rachel," Mark said, stepping closer. "The FBI raided Julian Hale’s office three hours ago. Karen Doyle was arrested at her desk for evidence tampering and felony forgery."
Rachel closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath. "My husband... Michael... he worked so hard before he died. He built things. He used to say that people ought to take responsibility when they make a mistake. But those people in the suit... they looked at me like I was nothing. Like my son's life didn't matter because we were poor."
"You are not nothing, Rachel," Mark said firmly. "And tomorrow, you are going to tell the entire world what happened in that waiting room."
The door to the room opened softly, and a nurse pushed a small wheelable bassinet into the room under the supervision of a NICU specialist.
Inside the incubator lay tiny Noah. He was small, covered in wires and monitoring pads, but his little chest rose and fell with steady, beautiful life.
Rachel gasped, her left hand reaching into the incubator, her fingertips gently brushing the soft, warm skin of her son's cheek.
Noah shifted slightly, his tiny hand opening, his fingers curling tightly around his mother's thumb.
May you like
Rachel broke down into tears, weeping softly against the edge of the crib. "Hi, baby... Hi, Noah... Mommy's here. Mommy's never going to let them hurt you again."
Maya stepped back, wiping a tear from her own cheek, while Mark looked on, his jaw set like iron.
