Chapter 115
Blake
I turned, fixing her with the same stare that had cowed board members and business rivals. "My daughter is coming in with a life-threatening condition. I'm Blake Sterling, and I have every fucking right to be back there."
"But—"
"Is Dr. Robinson through here?"
"Yes, but—"
"Then that's where I need to be." I pushed through the doors without waiting for permission, panic and privilege overriding any sense of protocol. "I have that authority, and I'm already through."
The hospital administrator appeared as if summoned, a balding man in an ill-fitting suit who clearly recognized me immediately.
"Mr. Sterling, we weren't expecting you until—"
"I want the Sterling Family Suite prepared for my daughter," I interrupted, my voice trembling slightly with suppressed emotion. "The best medical team you have. Cost is not a concern."
"Of course, Mr. Sterling. We'll begin preparations immediately."
"Good. Now where is Dr. Robinson?"
Before he could answer, a commotion at the ambulance bay doors drew my attention. Medical personnel rushed forward as paramedics wheeled in a stretcher. My heart fucking stopped when I saw the tiny figure lying motionless, an oxygen mask covering half her face.
Lily.
So small and fragile amid the chaos of medical equipment and shouting professionals. My throat closed up completely, a wave of protective terror washing over me so strong it made my knees weak.
My daughter. My baby girl. Please God, don't take her from me when I've just found her.
Then I saw him. Alex Morgan, clutching Lily's hand, his face pale with worry. He was leaning close to her, whispering something I couldn't hear.
"I'm here, Lily," he was saying. "Daddy's here. Hang on, sweetheart."
Something primal and possessive roared to life inside me, a rage so pure and hot it scorched away all other thought. Daddy? DADDY? You're not her fucking father, you goddamn imposter!
I pushed forward, shouldering past a nurse, my vision tunneling until all I could see was Morgan's hand on my daughter's.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded, my voice cutting through the medical chatter like a blade.
Morgan looked up, his expression hardening when he saw me. "I'm helping. Something you should try sometime."
"You have no right to be here," I said, stepping closer, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
"This child needs someone who can stay calm," he replied evenly, still holding Lily's small hand. "Someone who's been there for her before today."
"Mr. Sterling," Dr. Robinson appeared at my side, his face stern. "Please step back and let us work."
I barely heard him, my attention fixed on Morgan, on his hand touching my daughter's. My blood roared in my ears. "Get away from her," I growled, my voice dropping to a dangerous register.
"Blake," Morgan said, using my first name with an infuriating familiarity. "This isn't the time or place."
"I'm her father," I said, my voice rising, edged with desperation. "Her real fucking father."
"No," Morgan replied, his calm slipping. "I'm her father. I'm the one who's been there for every fever, every nightmare, every doctor's appointment."
Each word was a knife twisting in my gut, because I knew they were true. I'd missed it all. Every goddamn moment of my daughter's life.
"You're nothing to her," I spat, the pain and guilt fueling my rage. "You're just the stand-in. The fucking placeholder."
"Mr. Sterling, please," Dr. Robinson tried again. "We need space to work."
Morgan reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "I have her birth certificate right here. I am her legal father. I have the right to sign any medical forms necessary."
Something snapped inside me. The persistent headache, the fear for Lily, the sight of this man claiming my child—it all converged into a white-hot rage that consumed rational thought. My vision actually blurred at the edges, turning red with fury.
I lunged forward, my fist connecting with Morgan's jaw with a satisfying crack. He stumbled back, releasing Lily's hand, but recovered quickly. Before I could land another blow, his fist slammed into my cheekbone, sending a shock of pain through my skull.
"You motherfucker!" I snarled, blood filling my mouth as we grappled between medical carts and equipment.
Morgan was surprisingly strong despite his leaner frame. I felt the expensive fabric of my bespoke suit tear as we crashed into a rolling tray of instruments. The metallic clatter barely registered as I drove my fist toward his stomach, blind rage making me forget where we were, what was at stake.
"She's MY daughter!" I shouted, my voice raw. "MINE!"
Hospital security appeared, along with my own security team, pulling us apart. I struggled against their grip, tasting blood where I'd cut the inside of my cheek.
"That's enough!" Dr. Robinson shouted, his professional demeanor cracking. "This is a hospital, not a boxing ring! I'll call the police if this continues!"
I straightened my tie and wiped blood from my face with my pocket square, the red stain vivid against the white silk. My chest heaved with exertion and emotion, shame beginning to seep in as I realized what I'd done—caused a scene while my daughter fought for her life. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Morgan stood across from me, breathing hard, a darkening bruise forming on his jaw. His eyes held not just anger, but something worse—pity.
"How is she?" I asked Robinson, forcing my voice to steady, though it still shook with adrenaline.
The doctor glanced between us warily. "She's stable for now, but her temperature is dangerously high and she's severely dehydrated. We need to run tests to determine what's causing this."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak further, a knot of fear tightening in my throat.
"You'll both wait in separate areas," Robinson continued firmly. "Mr. Morgan in the east waiting room, Mr. Sterling in the west. I'll update you both when we know more."
As security escorted me toward the waiting area, I locked eyes with Morgan across the room. The naked hatred I felt was mirrored in his gaze, but there was something else there too—a certainty, a belonging, that I couldn't claim.
A movement at the entrance caught my attention. James had arrived, his expression darkening as he took in the scene—the overturned equipment, my bloodied face, the security guards keeping Morgan and me separated.
In that moment, I knew this was only the beginning. The battle for my daughter had just escalated, and I had no fucking idea if I was winning or losing.