Chapter 3 - A Name on the Glass
The alarm had come from the operating-room monitor, not from a declaration of death.
A nurse explained that Khloe's blood pressure had fallen suddenly, and the surgeons were responding.
Marcus sank into a chair.
An hour passed in a series of sounds he would remember forever: cart wheels, muffled instructions, the opening of doors that never stayed open long enough.
Then Dr. Nair emerged.
"Khloe is alive. We controlled the bleeding. She's being transferred to intensive care for close monitoring."
Marcus covered his face.
"And our daughter?"
"She was born breathing, but she's very premature. She's receiving respiratory support in the neonatal intensive care unit."
"Can I see her?"
"Once you've spoken to her neonatologist."
Under the NICU's soft lights, his daughter looked impossibly small.
Wires and tubes surrounded her incubator.
"Her name is Willa," Marcus said, surprising himself.
Khloe had chosen it during a quiet evening at home.
He had joked that they should wait until they met her.
Now he wished he'd said it aloud a hundred times.
A nurse showed him how to rest a clean hand gently against the outside of the incubator.
"You can talk to her," she said.
"Hi, Willa. I'm your dad."
His voice broke.
"Your mom is the brave one. I need you to meet her."
In the hallway, a hospital security supervisor named Daniel Reyes approached.
"Mr. Thorne, there's something you need to address."
"Is Isabella still here?"
"She's with officers. But someone using your executive email account sent a visitor authorization request to our neonatal front desk earlier today."
Marcus frowned.
"I never sent that."
"Our staff held the request for verification. It wasn't approved."
The supervisor handed him a printed review copy.
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The name on the proposed authorized visitor list was Isabella Rossi.
The request had been entered hours before Willa was born.
