Chapter 4 - Seven Minutes
Anna’s daughter was born at 8:12 p.m. on Christmas Eve.
She weighed three pounds and eleven ounces.
For seven seconds after delivery, Anna heard nothing.
Then came the smallest cry she had ever heard.
It was weak.
High.
Beautiful.
Anna began sobbing.
The neonatal team rushed the baby toward an incubator.
“She’s breathing.”
A doctor told Anna.
“She needs support, but she’s fighting.”
Anna turned her head.
“Can I see her?”
A nurse lifted the tiny baby just enough.
Anna saw a face no bigger than her palm.
A tiny nose.
A fragile mouth.
A shock of dark hair.
Then the child disappeared behind medical equipment.
Anna whispered the name she had chosen months earlier.
“Grace.”
The surgery continued.
Outside, David was learning that the world he controlled had begun collapsing without him.
Police separated every guest who had been present at dinner.
Statements were taken individually.
Michael handed over the video.
Another colleague admitted hearing David say there would be no ambulance because he had just been promoted.
A third guest remembered Sylvia saying Anna was pretending to be in pain.
David attempted to explain everything.
He said emotions were high.
He said Anna had stumbled.
He said his broken-phone comment was being misinterpreted.
The officer finally asked him to stop speaking until he had counsel.
David laughed.
“I am counsel.”
The officer looked unimpressed.
“You’re not your own best one tonight.”
Sylvia was worse.
She demanded officers leave her home.
She insisted it was a private family matter.
She tried to clean the kitchen.
An officer stopped her.
“Do not touch anything.”
“This is my house.”
“It may also be part of an investigation.”
Those words changed her face.
At 9:05 p.m., David learned Anna’s father had arrived at the hospital.
His panic became visible.
He called three partners from his law firm.
Two did not answer.
The third answered once.
David began explaining.
The partner interrupted.
“Is Anna Whitmore your wife?”
David went silent.
He had never used her maiden name professionally.
Anna had preferred Mercer because she did not want clients, professors, neighbors, or strangers treating her differently.
“Yes.”
The partner breathed slowly.
“You married Jonathan Whitmore’s daughter and never knew?”
“She never told me.”
“That is not the important part.”
David rubbed his forehead.
“What is?”
“The important part is that there is already a video circulating among people who were at your mother’s house.”
David felt the blood drain from his face.
“What video?”
The partner became quiet.
“David.”
May you like
“Yes?”
“Do not come into the office.”
