Chapter 5 - The Day Emma Arrived

Luca’s bail hearing lasted twenty-seven minutes.

Jessi did not attend.

Celeste insisted there was no reason for an eight-month-pregnant woman with healing burns to sit inside another courtroom just to watch Luca look remorseful for a judge.

“You are not required to witness every consequence,” Celeste told her over the phone.

“What happened?”

“Bond was set high. Electronic monitoring if he posts it. No contact with you, Mrs. Patel, Evan Brooks, or the notary.”

“And Wendy?”

“Still under investigation.”

“Does she still have the protective order?”

“Yes.”

Jessi looked at the small suitcase packed beside Anjali’s guest-room door.

At thirty-five weeks, Dr. Reynolds had told her to be ready for anything.

The attack had not harmed Emma directly, but the stress had complicated the pregnancy. Jessi had begun having contractions too early.

“Rest,” the doctor had ordered.

Jessi had almost laughed.

Rest had become a word other people used when they had no idea what was happening inside her head.

Three days after the bail hearing, Maya arrived with news about Dominic Shaw.

“We served warrants on two companies tied to him.”

Jessi sat at the kitchen table.

“Did he know my father?”

“Yes.”

“How well?”

“Enough to have met him at least four times.”

“Why?”

“Property.”

Jessi waited.

Maya opened a folder.

“Your father was approached by Meridian Health Properties eleven months before his death.”

“He never told me.”

“He may have intended to.”

“What did they offer?”

“Four hundred thousand.”

“For a property they thought could be worth over a million?”

“Yes.”

“And Dad refused.”

“Twice.”

Jessi smiled faintly.

“That sounds like him.”

“Then a company linked to Shaw began discussing financing with Luca.”

Jessi’s smile disappeared.

“Before Dad died?”

“Yes.”

“So Luca knew about the development before he told me.”

“It appears so.”

“And Wendy?”

“She had direct emails with Shaw.”

“What do they say?”

Maya hesitated.

“Mostly business language. But one is useful.”

She handed over a copy.

Wendy had written:

If Victor continues refusing, the asset will pass to Jessi. She is easier to manage.

Jessi read the sentence twice.

“My father’s name.”

“Yes.”

“She called his home an asset.”

“Yes.”

“And me easier to manage.”

Maya said nothing.

Jessi put the page down.

“I hope she remembers writing that.”

“She will be asked.”

“What about Dad’s death?”

Maya’s expression became careful.

“We reopened the circumstances for review.”

Jessi’s pulse rose.

“Meaning?”

“We obtained his medical records. He had significant coronary artery disease.”

“So the heart attack was real.”

“The cause of death was consistent with a heart attack.”

Jessi searched Maya’s face.

“But?”

“But there is no toxicology because there was no autopsy.”

“Can you exhume him?”

“Not because of suspicion alone.”

Jessi flinched.

“I hate that word.”

“What word?”

“Exhume.”

“So do I.”

Maya continued.

“We found nothing currently proving anyone caused his death. No threatening message. No evidence someone entered his home that day. His last known call was with you.”

Jessi remembered.

Her father had complained about a leaking faucet.

He had asked whether Luca was treating her well.

She had laughed and said yes.

The memory cut deeper now.

“He asked about Luca.”

Maya leaned forward.

“What exactly did he ask?”

“He said, ‘He’s not pressuring you about anything, is he?’”

“You never mentioned that.”

“I forgot.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him no.”

“Was that true?”

“At the time, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Luca had made jokes about Bell Street. He said we should sell after the baby came.”

“Did your father know that?”

“I don’t know.”

Maya wrote something down.

“Anything else from the call?”

Jessi closed her eyes.

“He said, ‘If anyone brings you paperwork, call me first.’”

Maya’s pen stopped.

“That matters.”

Jessi opened her eyes.

“He died that night.”

“Yes.”

“He knew paperwork was coming.”

“It sounds like he suspected it.”

Jessi pressed her fingertips to her temples.

“I should have asked why.”

“You didn’t know what you know now.”

“He was trying to warn me.”

“And he left a written warning too.”

“That letter was in Luca’s safe.”

“We will ask Luca how it got there.”

“If he talks.”

“If.”

A contraction tightened suddenly across Jessi’s abdomen.

She froze.

Maya noticed immediately.

“Jessi?”

“Wait.”

The pressure strengthened.

Then eased.

Maya stood.

“How long has that been happening?”

“Off and on.”

“How often?”

“Not often.”

“Define not often.”

Jessi sighed.

“Every twenty minutes since breakfast.”

Maya stared at her.

“Why are you sitting here?”

“Because Dr. Reynolds said to time them.”

“And?”

Jessi reached for her phone.

The contraction app displayed five recorded intervals.

Maya took one look.

“We’re going to the hospital.”

“They’re not five minutes apart.”

“You were pushed into boiling soup three weeks ago while pregnant. I’m not debating contraction mathematics with you.”

Mrs. Patel arrived as Maya was helping Jessi into the car.

“You are in labor?”

“Maybe.”

Mrs. Patel pointed at Maya.

“Drive.”

At St. Vincent’s, Dr. Reynolds examined Jessi and frowned.

“You’re dilating.”

Jessi’s throat went dry.

“It’s too early.”

“Thirty-five weeks and five days. Early, yes. Not catastrophically early.”

“Is Emma okay?”

“Heartbeat looks good.”

“Can you stop labor?”

“We may slow it. We may not.”

Jessi gripped the bed rail.

“Please.”

Dr. Reynolds touched her shoulder.

“We’re going to take care of both of you.”

The next twelve hours became a blur of monitors, medication, pain, fear, and voices.

Celeste called once.

Maya took the phone.

“No legal updates today,” she said.

Jessi managed to say, “Thank you.”

Mrs. Patel stayed beside her.

“You squeeze my hand,” she instructed.

“You’ll regret that.”

“I raised three children. You are not stronger than all three.”

By midnight, labor progressed despite medication.

Dr. Reynolds came in wearing scrubs.

“Jessi, we’re having a baby.”

Jessi cried.

Not because she was ready.

Because she wasn’t.

“What if she can’t breathe?”

“Neonatal staff will be here.”

“What if—”

“Look at me.”

Jessi did.

“You have spent weeks imagining everything people can take from you. Right now, focus on what your body is trying to give you.”

The words steadied her.

Hours later, Jessi heard a cry.

Small.

Angry.

Perfect.

“Your daughter,” Dr. Reynolds said.

Jessi started sobbing.

“Emma?”

A nurse lifted the tiny baby just high enough for Jessi to see.

Dark hair.

Red face.

Fists clenched.

“Emma,” Jessi whispered.

The neonatal team examined her.

Jessi watched every movement.

“Why aren’t they bringing her?”

“She’s early,” Dr. Reynolds said. “They’re checking her breathing.”

“Is she breathing?”

“Yes.”

“Then why—”

A nurse smiled.

“She’s doing well.”

Emma spent two nights in the neonatal unit for observation.

On the second morning, Jessi sat beside the incubator while Maya entered quietly.

“You can tell me to leave.”

Jessi looked at Emma.

“Is it bad?”

“No.”

“Then stay.”

Maya stepped closer.

“She’s beautiful.”

“She looks furious.”

“That may be useful genetically.”

Jessi laughed softly.

“What did you find?”

Maya lowered her voice.

“Daniel Kersey, the notary, agreed to cooperate.”

“What did he say?”

“Luca paid him to notarize documents without you present.”

Jessi’s jaw tightened.

“And Wendy?”

“Kersey says Wendy was there.”

“So she knew.”

“Yes.”

“Anything else?”

“He says there were two sets of deeds. One for you to see. One for filing.”

Jessi looked at her daughter.

“Exactly what we thought.”

“Yes.”

“And Dominic Shaw?”

“Kersey never met him.”

Jessi nodded.

Maya continued.

“We also recovered deleted messages from Wendy’s phone.”

“What messages?”

“One from the day before the attack.”

Maya read from her notes.

Tomorrow. Get the signature or use the other version. Shaw will not extend again.

Jessi went still.

“Who sent it?”

“Luca.”

“And Wendy answered?”

One word.

Fine.

Jessi looked through the incubator wall at Emma.

“Fine.”

Maya nodded.

“Another message after the attack.”

“What did she say?”

“Wendy wrote: Camera handled. She will calm down.”

Jessi’s eyes filled with anger.

“Camera handled.”

“They believed the footage was gone.”

“Six months from now, I want them to hear it.”

Maya studied her.

“What do you mean?”

“I want to be there when they see they failed.”

“That may happen in court.”

“Good.”

“Jessi, do not build your healing around a courtroom moment.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what are you building it around?”

Jessi put one finger against the incubator.

Emma’s tiny hand moved toward it from the other side.

“This.”

Maya nodded.

“That is better.”

A nurse entered.

“We’re going to try feeding again.”

Jessi carefully lifted Emma.

The baby weighed just under six pounds.

She felt impossibly small.

Maya moved toward the door.

“Before I go, one more thing.”

Jessi looked up.

“Your father’s eighty-thousand-dollar note was forged.”

Jessi stopped moving.

“Confirmed?”

“The document examiner found tracing indicators and inconsistent ink sequencing. Your father did not sign it.”

Jessi closed her eyes.

“So Luca stole from him.”

“The evidence strongly indicates the loan document was fabricated.”

“And Dad found out.”

“Yes.”

“Which is why he confronted Luca.”

“Yes.”

Jessi opened her eyes.

“Charge him.”

“The prosecutor decides charges.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

Maya looked at Emma.

“Focus on your daughter today.”

Jessi nodded.

Maya left.

That evening, Luca tried to call from jail through a third party.

The call never reached Jessi directly. Celeste intercepted the message through Luca’s attorney.

He wants to discuss reconciliation and surrender his parental claims if property matters can be resolved privately.

Jessi read it once.

Then handed the phone back.

“What does ‘property matters’ mean?”

Celeste’s face was flat.

“He wants leverage.”

“Using Emma.”

“Possibly.”

Jessi looked at her daughter sleeping against her chest.

“No.”

“I assumed.”

“No deal tied to Bell Street.”

“Good.”

“No secret settlement that makes the criminal case disappear.”

“That is not entirely yours to control.”

“I know.”

“And parental rights are not property to trade.”

“I know.”

Jessi kissed Emma’s forehead.

“Then tell him one thing.”

Celeste waited.

“Nothing.”

Celeste smiled faintly.

“That is usually stronger.”

Three days later, Jessi carried Emma out of the hospital.

The baby was healthy enough to go home.

Not to the condo.

Not to Bell Street yet.

To the small apartment above Anjali’s accounting office.

Mrs. Patel had decorated the bedroom with a secondhand crib and yellow curtains.

A card sat on the pillow.

WELCOME HOME, EMMA.

Jessi stood in the doorway holding her daughter.

Her burns still hurt.

Her marriage was ending.

Her father’s money had been stolen.

The truth about his final months was still unfolding.

But Emma breathed softly against her chest.

Alive.

Healthy.

Home.

Jessi whispered, “Nobody gets to choose for us again.”

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Emma yawned.

And for the first time, Jessi believed the promise.