Chapter 3 - The Ghost from the Past
The emergency wing of Northwestern Memorial Hospital was buzzing with fluorescent lights and frantic activity when Christopher pushed through the glass doors.
He was carrying two of the four-year-old triplets—Jake and Lucas—in his broad arms, while Noah rode on the shoulders of his private security guard, Marcus, whom he had summoned on the drive over. Lily walked right beside Christopher, her hand tucked safely inside his large palm, her wrapped fingers resting against his sleeve.
“Mr. Hayes!” Jennifer, his executive assistant, rushed up to him in the lobby holding an iPad and a stack of medical intake forms. “I received your message. I’ve booked the entire private VIP pediatric wing on the eighth floor. Dr. Aris Thorne, the chief of surgery, is waiting for the children.”
“Good,” Christopher said crisply. “Marcus, take the boys and Lily upstairs. Have Dr. Thorne treat Lily’s burns immediately. Give her proper pain management and the best burn care in the country.”
“I want to stay with you,” Lily pleaded, pulling on his sleeve.
Christopher looked down at her, his expression softening into a tenderness his corporate board members would never have recognized.
“I need to go see your mother first, sweetie,” Christopher told her gently. “I promise I will bring her to you as soon as she’s okay. Okay?”
Lily looked into his eyes, searched his face, and slowly nodded. “Okay, Mr. Hayes.”
“Call me Christopher,” he whispered.
Ten minutes later, Christopher stood outside ICU Room 312.
Through the observation glass, he saw her.
Maya.
She lay in the narrow hospital bed, framed by monitoring equipment. Her dark hair was dull and streaked with stress, her skin translucent, her frame gaunt and fragile. Oxygen tubes rested under her nose, and an IV drip delivered fluids into her thin arm.
The sight broke something deep inside Christopher’s chest. The vibrant, fiercely independent woman who used to laugh in his arms, who debated philosophy until three in the morning, was now a shell of herself—worked to the bone, starved, and hidden in a rundown apartment in downtown Chicago.
Christopher pushed open the heavy door.
The rhythmic beep... beep... beep of the heart monitor filled the room.
He walked over to the side of the bed and dropped to his knees on the cold tile floor, clutching her free hand. Her skin was freezing.
“Maya,” he choked out, bringing her hand to his lips. “My God, Maya… what happened to you?”
At the sound of his voice, her eyelashes fluttered. She slowly opened her dark brown eyes. They were unfocused at first, clouded by weakness and sedatives, but as they locked onto Christopher’s face, tears instantly welled up in the corners.
“Chris...?” she whispered, her voice barely a raspy sigh.
“I’m here,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’m right here.”
“The... the kids...” Maya panicked suddenly, her heart monitor spiking frantically. “Where are my babies? Where is Lily? Mrs. Patterson was supposed to—”
“Shh, quiet, my love,” Christopher soothed her, gently cupping her pale cheek. “The kids are safe. They’re upstairs on the eighth floor. Lily is being treated by the best doctors in Illinois. Mrs. Patterson is in police custody.”
Maya let out a ragged, sob-racked breath, her eyes closing as tears spilled down her temples. “You found them... she called you...”
“Why, Maya?” Christopher demanded, his voice a painful mixture of agony and love. “Why did you leave five years ago? Why did you make me believe you abandoned me? Why were you living in poverty while I had billions?”
Maya swallowed hard, fighting for breath. “I didn't leave because I wanted to, Chris... I left to keep you alive.”
Christopher frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Five years ago... right after I found out I was pregnant with the triplets,” Maya whispered, her eyes shining with terror at the memory. “Your uncle... Arthur Hayes.”
Christopher’s whole body went rigid.
Arthur Hayes. The former senior chairman of Meridian Industries, who had died in a private plane crash three years ago.
“Arthur came to my apartment,” Maya rasped, clutching Christopher’s hand with surprising strength. “He showed me security footage of your car. He had rigged explosive charges beneath your engine. He told me... he told me if I didn't disappear forever, if I didn't write that letter saying I hated you, he would press a button and blow you to pieces.”
Christopher felt the blood drain from his face.
“He wanted Meridian Industries for himself,” Maya wept. “He knew if you had an heir, if I had your children, his line of succession was ruined. He forced me onto a bus to Indiana. He took my money, my documents... I had to change my identity. A year later, he died in that crash... but I was so terrified his associates were still watching me... I didn't dare come back.”
She looked at him with sheer, heart-wrenching maternal desperation.
“I worked three jobs, Chris... I gave every penny I made to Mrs. Patterson thinking she was protecting my children while I was at work. I didn't know... I didn't know she was hurting my little girl...”
Christopher pulled Maya into his arms, wrapping his broad shoulders around her fragile body, holding her against his chest as she sobbed uncontrollably.
“It’s over, Maya,” Christopher vowed into her hair, his eyes burning with a dark, ruthless promise. “It’s over. No one is ever going to hurt you or our children again.”
“Our children...?” Maya whispered, pulling back slightly.
May you like
“Lily,” Christopher said softly. “Is Lily mine?”
Maya smiled through her tears, nodding weakly. “She was two years old when I was forced to leave. You were away in Tokyo on business when Arthur took us. She remembers you, Chris... I kept your picture in her locket. I told her... if anything ever happened to me, if the world collapsed, she was to call her daddy.”
