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Millionaire Told His Pregnant Wife, “Don’t Come Home Tonight”—At Midnight, Her Wedding Dress Was Waiting for Him / Chapter 8 / 10

Chapter 8 - The Long Night

The labor began at 11:42 PM on a moonless Tuesday night.

There was no panic. No frantic phone calls to a husband who was busy entertaining corporate mistresses. No desperate scramble to find car keys or insurance cards.

Claire walked calmly down the hallway to her landline phone and dialed Arthur Sterling’s private cell number.

The phone rang twice before a gravelly, sleep-roughened voice answered. "Hello?"

"Arthur," Claire said, her voice completely steady, though she paused as a sharp contraction crested and receded through her frame. "It's time. I'm heading to St. Matthew’s."

On the other end of the line, the rustling of sheets stopped instantly. Sterling’s voice sharpened with immediate, grandfatherly authority. "I'm getting dressed. I'll meet you at the maternity ward entrance in twenty minutes. Mrs. Gable is already on her way over to the house, isn't she?"

"She's walking up the front steps right now," Claire said, hearing the front door latch unlock downstairs. "See you there, Arthur."

She hung up, grabbed her small leather duffel bag—resting right beside the antique bassinet—and walked down the grand staircase for the last time as an expectant mother.

Mrs. Gable met her in the foyer, her eyes wide with excited, nervous joy. "Oh, my sweet girl. You look radiant. Absolutely radiant. Let me take that bag."

"Drive behind me, Mrs. Gable," Claire instructed calmly, pulling her wool coat over her shoulders. "I'm driving myself. My contractions are six minutes apart; I am perfectly capable of handling twenty minutes behind the wheel of my own Range Rover."

"StubbornMontgomery," Mrs. Gable muttered with a fond, wet smile. "Just like your father."

The drive to St. Matthew’s Medical Center was peaceful. The streets of Charlotte were silent, bathed in the amber glow of streetlamps. When Claire pulled up to the maternity entrance, Arthur Sterling was already standing under the portico, wearing a tailored overcoat over his pajamas, holding a thermos of hot black coffee like a seasoned general inspecting the front lines.

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He opened her car door before she could kill the engine.

"Let's go, Madam Chairman," Arthur said, offering her his arm with courtly grace. "We have a new heir to introduce to the world."

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