Chapter 7 - The Fight for Life
Grant slammed his hands against the double doors of the surgical waiting area. He paced back and forth in front of the frosted glass of Operating Room 3 like a caged, frantic animal.
He didn't care about his empire. He didn't care about the millions of dollars in his bank accounts. He only cared about the woman fighting for her life on the other side of that glass.
A nurse rushed out, her scrubs covered in blood.
"How is she?!" Grant demanded, blocking her path.
"She's hemorrhaging," the nurse panicked. "The baby's heart rate is dangerously low! We don't have a pediatric cardiac surgeon on call tonight! We're losing them both!"
Grant’s blood ran ice cold.
He pulled out his cell phone. He didn't call his lieutenants. He called the chief of medicine at Chicago’s most elite private hospital.
"This is Grant Wexler," he barked into the phone, his voice carrying the absolute authority of a billionaire who funded half the city's infrastructure. "I need the top neonatal surgical team in the state at Chicago General in five minutes. I don't care if you have to pull them out of their beds. Use my private helicopter. If this woman or her baby dies, I will personally burn your hospital to the ground."
Within minutes, the deafening roar of a helicopter echoed above the hospital roof.
An elite team of surgeons sprinted down the hallway, rushing straight into OR 3.
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Grant stood alone in the hallway, leaning his head against the cold concrete wall. For the first time in his adult life, the ruthless mafia boss closed his eyes, clasped his hands together, and prayed.
👉 What happens when the surgical doors finally open after hours of silence?
