Extraction

Labor was induced two weeks early. Sterling decided the baby was ready, and he didn't want to risk natural complications.

The Private Maternity Wing in the penthouse was cleaner than any hospital. It smelled of nothing.

Chloe lay on the bed, numb from the waist down. There was no coaching. No hand-holding. Just the beeping of monitors and the murmur of doctors in surgical masks.

Sterling stood behind the glass partition, watching. He was wearing a suit. He checked his watch.

"Contractions are peak," a doctor said. "Extraction in three... two..."

Chloe felt pressure. A immense, tearing pressure.

Then, a cry.

It was a high, thin sound that cut through the sterility of the room.

"It’s a boy," the doctor announced. "Seven pounds, six ounces. Vitals perfect."

For one second, the doctor held the baby up.

Chloe reached out. Her arms felt like lead. "Let me see him," she croaked. "Please."

She saw a flash of messy dark hair. A red, squalling face.

Then, the doctor turned away. He walked to the warming station.

Sterling entered the room. He didn't look at Chloe. He walked straight to the station.

He picked up the bundle. The baby quieted instantly, sensing the Alpha blood.

Sterling looked down at his son. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face—the first genuine emotion Chloe had ever seen from him.

"Perfect," Sterling whispered.

He turned to the wet nurse standing in the corner. He handed the baby to her.

"Take him to the nursery. Initiate the feeding protocol."

The nurse nodded and carried the child out.

Sterling paused at the door. He looked back at the bed, where Chloe lay shivering, blood pooling on the sheets, her arms empty.

He nodded once, a curt, businesslike gesture.

"Good work, Miss Winters," he said.

He left. The door slid shut with a pneumatic hiss.

Chloe stared at the ceiling. She waited for the tears, but she was too dehydrated to cry. She was just data that had been processed. The calculation was complete.

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