CHAPTER 3: THE MIDNIGHT EMERGENCY

By eleven o'clock that night, the Tribeca penthouse was completely dark, save for the amber city lights bleeding through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. Jasmine sat on the edge of her bed in the nanny’s quarters, massaging her swollen ankles. Her back was aching fiercely. “Chai, this pikin never even comot, but you dey behave like heavy load,” she whispered affectionately to her stomach, smoothing down her cotton nightshirt.

She was just about to close her eyes when a sound shattered the silence.

It wasn't a normal toddler cry. It was a piercing, blood-curdling shriek of pure terror.

Jasmine’s maternal instincts kicked in before her brain could even process the noise. She threw her blanket off, ignored the sudden shooting pain in her lower back, and bolted down the dimly lit hallway straight into Lila’s room.

Lila was thrashing violently beneath her canopy sheets, her eyes wide open but completely blank, staring at the ceiling as if a monster was looming over her. Sweat was slicking down her dark curls, and her chest heaved. “No! Mommy, no! Stay!” she screamed, her tiny voice cracking with agony.

“Lila, baby, I’m here,” Jasmine rushed to the side of the bed, her heart in her throat.

Before she could reach for the little girl, the door slammed open. Damian stood there, breathing heavily, wearing nothing but black sweatpants. His chest was bare, his dark hair completely wild, and his eyes frantic with a father's desperation.

“Lila!” Damian lunged forward, gathering his daughter into his massive arms. “Hey, bug, look at me. Look at Daddy. You’re safe. It’s just a dream.”

But Lila didn't hear him. She kicked out, her tiny fists striking Damian’s chest as she screamed louder, trapped deep inside the nightmare. Damian held her tightly, his jaw clenched, but Jasmine could see the raw, helpless agony fracturing his cold demeanor. He looked completely broken, his shoulders trembling as he tried to soothe a child who couldn't find her way back to reality.

“Mr. Cole, please, let me try,” Jasmine said softly, stepping closer.

“She won't let anyone touch her when it’s this bad,” Damian snapped, his voice thick with frustration and exhaustion. “Just... go get her water.”

Jasmine didn’t move toward the door. Instead, she gently sat on the edge of the mattress, right beside them. She didn't try to pull Lila away from him. Instead, she just laid a warm, steady hand on Lila’s trembling back and began to hum.

It was a low, soothing, rhythmic sound. Then, she let her voice carry the words of an old Yoruba lullaby her grandmother used to sing in Lagos when the electricity failed and the night grew too hot to sleep.

“Oluronbi o... Jowo, o jowo...” Jasmine sang, her voice a velvety, melodic whisper in the dark room. “Don’t cry, my love. The shadows are leaving. Close your eyes, sleep sweetly...”

She repeated the melody, her voice steady and full of deep maternal warmth.

Slowly, miraculously, the thrashing stopped. Lila’s rigid posture began to melt against Damian’s chest. The blank, terrifying look in the little girl's eyes softened, her heavy eyelids fluttering shut as she leaned into the sound of Jasmine's voice. within three minutes, Lila’s breathing evened out, her tiny thumb slipping into her mouth as she drifted back into a peaceful, quiet sleep.

Jasmine reached over and gently pulled the soft duvet up over Lila's shoulders, her fingers lingering on the child's hair for a brief, tender moment.

When she finally looked up, her breath caught.

Damian wasn't looking at his daughter anymore. He was staring directly at Jasmine.

The silence in the room was heavy, thick, and suffocating. In the dim light of the nightlight, Damian’s blue-gray eyes were burning with an intense, complicated emotion. The hard, icy exterior he usually wore was completely stripped away, leaving something raw, dangerous, and incredibly vulnerable.