Chapter 2 - The Neonatal War
The NICU was a dimly lit sanctuary of gentle bleeps, rhythmic hums, and the quiet footsteps of specialized nurses. It felt like a world set apart from reality—a place where life was measured not in years or months, but in single milliliters of breast milk and tiny, microscopic breaths of oxygen.
Three days had passed since the emergency delivery. I sat in a high-backed ergonomic wheelchair beside Incubator 14, my lower abdomen throbbing with deep, aching pain from the C-section incision, but I refused the heavy painkillers. I needed my mind entirely sharp.
Inside Incubator 14 was Clara, our eldest triplet. Beside her were Daisy and Violet. All three were battling severe respiratory distress syndrome, their fragile lungs still underdeveloped at twenty-eight weeks.
My phone sat on the small bedside tray, vibrating relentlessly.
47 Missed Calls from Landon.
12 Missed Calls from Eleanor Pierce (Landon's Mother).
19 Text Messages.
I swiped open the text thread from Landon.
Landon: Corinne, please answer me. This is absurd. You are ruining my standing at the firm. Brielle was just helping me draft a press release!
Landon: My mother is distraught that she hasn't been allowed to see her granddaughters. You are acting completely unhinged.
Landon: If you don't call me back in an hour, I will bring our corporate attorney to the hospital. I have parental rights!
A cold, bitter smile touched my lips. I deleted the messages without replying, then tapped a contact I had saved two days ago: Julian Sterling.
Julian was one of the most feared family law attorneys in the Pacific Northwest—a man known for tearing high-net-worth narcissists to pieces in court. He was also Dr. Mara Ellison’s older brother.
Ten minutes later, the door to the NICU consultation room clicked open. Julian Sterling walked in. He was a tall man in his late thirties with sharp silver-rimmed glasses, a impeccably tailored navy suit, and an aura of absolute, calm authority.
"Ms. Pierce," Julian said softly, bowing his head respectfully before pulling up a chair opposite my wheelchair. "Dr. Ellison gave me a preliminary briefing on your situation. How are the girls today?"
"They are fighting," I murmured, looking through the glass at tiny Clara. "Clara gained ten grams today. Daisy’s oxygen requirement dropped by five percent. Violet... Violet is still critical, but she’s stable."
"They are incredible," Julian said, his expression softening as he glanced at the incubators before turning back to me, opening a crisp leather portfolio. "Now, let’s talk about protecting them—and you."
"Landon threatened to bring an attorney to force his way in here," I said, my voice steady. "He claims I am emotionally unstable and keeping him from his children out of spite."
Julian chuckled softly—a dry, confident sound. "Let him try. I’ve already drafted an emergency ex parte petition for exclusive temporary custody and a temporary restraining order based on medical endangerment and spousal abandonment during a critical surgical intervention."
Julian pulled out a printed transcript.
"Nurse Tessa Monroe and Dr. Ellison have both executed sworn affidavits confirming the contents of the phone call that occurred while you were on the operating table," Julian explained, tapping the paper. "Furthermore, my private investigative team conducted a preliminary audit of your joint financial accounts yesterday afternoon."
I looked up, frowning. "Financial accounts?"
"Landon Pierce is a senior partner at Vance & Pierce Investment Management," Julian said coldly. "Over the last fourteen months, while you were undergoing expensive IVF treatments and sitting on bed rest, your husband transferred approximately four hundred and fifty thousand dollars from your shared liquid assets into a private offshore shell company registered in Nevada."
My blood ran cold. "Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars?"
"And three weeks ago," Julian continued, "he signed a lease on a two-million-dollar luxury penthouse overlooking Elliott Bay in Seattle. The primary lease holder is registered under Brielle Vaughn's name, with Landon listed as the financial guarantor."
I sat in my wheelchair, processing the sheer magnitude of the betrayal. It wasn't just an affair. It was a calculated, methodical dismantling of our life. While I was risking my body, lying in bed praying for our children to survive, Landon was actively draining our savings to build a secret nest for his mistress.
"He didn't just abandon me on the operating table, Julian," I whispered, my knuckles turning white against the armrests of my wheelchair. "He was planning to leave me bankrupt with three medically fragile infants."
"Precisely," Julian said, his sharp eyes flashing behind his glasses. "He assumed that as a young mother overwhelmed by the trauma of a high-risk triplet birth, you would be panicked, broken, and easy to manipulate into a quiet, cheap divorce settlement."
Julian leaned forward, setting a gold fountain pen on the table in front of me.
"So, Corinne," Julian murmured softly. "Do you want a quiet settlement... or do you want to burn his kingdom to the ground?"
May you like
I looked down at the pen, then turned my head to look at my three tiny daughters fighting for their breaths inside their glass boxes.
"I don't want a quiet settlement, Julian," I said, picking up the pen with a firm, unshakeable hand. "I want everything."
