Chapter 2 - DIAGNOSIS AND DECLARATION OF WAR
The siren blared as the medical transport sped through the streets toward St. Jude’s Private Hospital, an elite medical facility entirely owned by Victoria’s foundation. Inside the vehicle, I lay on the stretcher, hooked up to an IV, holding tight to my mother’s hand. The woman I had spent seventeen years believing had abandoned me was now wrapping me in a warmth I hadn't felt since childhood.
"Hold on, my love. We're almost there," Victoria murmured, using a damp cloth to wipe the cold sweat from my forehead.
"The baby... Mom, is my baby okay?" I sobbed, feeling a dull, persistent ache in my lower abdomen where the bat had struck.
"The doctors are going to check everything right now. Stay strong for me, child."
Upon arrival, a team of top obstetricians and trauma specialists was already waiting at the bay. I was rushed directly into the emergency ultrasound suite. Victoria remained by my side, her face an unreadable mask of determination, though I could see her knuckles turning white as she squeezed my hand.
The lead physician, Dr. Harrison, applied the cold gel to my stomach and moved the transducer over the right side of my abdomen. The room was deathly quiet except for the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor.
"There is localized tissue trauma and a slight placental abruption," Dr. Harrison stated gravely, staring at the screen. "It was a severe blunt force impact. However, the amniotic sac protected the primary vitals. The baby’s heartbeat is stable at 145 beats per minute."
A collective wave of relief washed over the room. Tears streamed down my face as the sound of my baby’s heartbeat filled the room—a steady, galloping rhythm that proved my child was a fighter.
"We need absolute bed rest and immediate medical observation for the next seventy-two hours to prevent premature labor," Dr. Harrison instructed his team. "Administer the prescribed fetal stabilizers and monitor internal bleeding markers closely."
Once the medical team stabilized my condition and left the private suite, Victoria sat in the armchair beside my bed. She pulled off her black gloves, revealing a heavy signet ring bearing the crest of the Valentine family.
"Now that you and my grandchild are safe," Victoria said, her tone shifting into a sharp, icy cadence, "it is time to deal with the people who put you in this bed."
"Mom... Mateo... he just stood there," I whispered, the emotional betrayal cutting deeper than the physical pain. "He watched his mother hit me and he looked away."
"Because he is a weak boy raised by a cruel woman," Victoria replied calmly. "They assumed you had no backing, no legacy, and no voice. They used you to feel superior. But they forgot one fundamental rule in this world: when you strike a Valentine, you invite total ruin."
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She pulled out a encrypted satellite phone and dialed a single number.
"Julian," Victoria commanded into the receiver. "Initiate Strategy Omega against the Villalobos Group. Freeze their offshore accounts, foreclose on their commercial real estate loans, and leak the audit files regarding their tax evasion to the federal prosecutor. I want them ruined by Friday."
