My Water Broke During His Ex's Hostage Crisis

Chapter 3

Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of the maternity ward, casting a warm glow over the bassinet where my daughter slept peacefully, her tiny chest rising and falling with each gentle breath.

I ran my fingers through her soft hair just as my phone vibrated silently on the nightstand.

The door swung open with a rush of cold air, and my mother-in-law stormed in, her face flushed with anger.

"Yvonne!"

Her voice trembled with panic.

"Your father is frantic at the embassy—why aren't you answering your phone?"

I reached over and tapped the mobile on the bassinet, watching the small figures spin. "Mom, please, keep your voice down."

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her phone tighter.

"Gavin is in a war zone right now—his life is hanging by a thread, and you're just sitting here—"

"666313," I interrupted, my voice calm but firm.

She froze, her eyes wide.

"The passcode to the house," I said, adjusting the blanket around Jessica. "Take whatever documents you need."

Her hands shook uncontrollably.

"You... you do know Gavin was shot, don't you? He's lying in some stranger's home—"

"I know."

I met her gaze, steady and unwavering. "He sent me seventeen distress messages."

She staggered back, hitting the wall, as I pulled the tablet from beneath my pillow and played the video.

On the screen, Gavin was slipping on his jacket, while I curled up on the couch, clutching my stomach, my nightgown soaked with sweat.

"Mom, this was his choice."

The video ended, and she slid to the floor, her mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out.

Gritting my teeth against the pain from my C-section, I got up to help her—just like that night, when I'd forced Gavin's passport into his hand despite the agony ripping through me.

"He and Jennifer—there's nothing between them," my mother-in-law choked out, gripping my wrist.

"He just—"

"—just cared more about Jennifer."

I pried her fingers off, my words cutting through the air.

"Enough to abandon his wife in labor. Enough to walk away from his newborn daughter."

Her lips trembled, but she couldn't respond.

When she stood, the streaks of gray in her hair seemed sharper, more pronounced.

"You... rest well," she whispered, nearly tripping over the rug as she left.

"Mom."

I stopped her, my voice steady.

"I need you and Dad to move out of the Westside house by the end of the week."

She spun around, tears welling in her eyes.

"You're doing this now?"

I glanced down at the bassinet, my heart tight.

"Gavin didn't ask if I could wait to give birth."

Three hours after she left, Jessica started crying.

I lifted her up, cradling her close as I walked to the window. I pulled back the curtain just enough to see the black sedan parked below.

Gavin's father stood beside it, the ember of his cigarette glowing faintly in the fading light.

I closed the curtain and held my daughter a little tighter, her cries mingling with the silence of the night.