Chapter 5: Clash of the Ryders

Chapter 5: Clash of the Ryders

The terror of the Code Blue alarm lingered long after it had been silenced. It had been a false alarm—a sensor on another infant’s monitor had momentarily slipped—but the adrenaline still throbbed in Elara’s veins, a sickening echo of the panic that had sent them sprinting down the hallway. For a few frantic minutes, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Jax outside the NICU doors while nurses swarmed, their personal war had ceased to exist. They were not an estranged couple with a fractured past; they were simply two parents, united in a singular, primal fear.

Now, in the aftermath, a fragile quiet had settled over them. The argument from the cafeteria felt trivial, childish. They sat in their usual seats, a silent truce declared, their gazes fixed on the steady, rhythmic green line of Leo’s monitor. The sight was the most beautiful thing Elara had ever seen.

The peace was shattered by the arrival of a nurse, her expression apologetic. “Mr. Ryder?” she said, addressing Jax. “Your parents are here. They’ve been shown to the private waiting room on the third floor. They asked me to fetch you.”

Jax’s entire body went rigid. “My parents?”

Elara’s heart plummeted into her stomach. The vague, distant threat of his family—the very people whose perceived judgment had driven her away—had just materialized within the hospital walls. Her deepest insecurities, which had been momentarily soothed by their shared panic, came roaring back to life.

“I… I should stay here,” Elara said quickly, her hands instinctively tightening into fists in her lap.

“No.” Jax’s voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. He stood up, a new kind of tension in his powerful frame. “You’re coming with me. We’re doing this together.”

The words were meant to be reassuring, but they filled Elara with dread. Doing this together meant facing the two people she was certain would see her as nothing more than a working-class girl who had trapped their golden-boy son. She felt a desperate urge to become invisible, to shrink back into the shadows of the NICU where she belonged. But Jax was already waiting, his expression grim and resolute, and she knew she had no choice but to follow.

The private waiting room was a world away from the sterile functionality of the rest of the hospital. It was less a waiting room and more a luxury hotel lobby condensed into a single space. Plush armchairs replaced hard plastic, the lighting was soft and golden, and a side table held an array of bottled water and expensive-looking snacks. It was a room bought and paid for, designed to insulate its occupants from the raw, messy reality of life and death playing out just two floors below. The opulence felt obscene.

Standing by the window, silhouetted against the afternoon light, were Katherine and Richard Ryder.

Richard Ryder was exactly as Elara remembered him from the few society functions she’d been dragged to with Jax: tall, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, with a quiet, assessing aura of immense power. He was a man who didn’t need to raise his voice to command a room. He just nodded at Jax, his gaze flicking to Elara for a brief, unreadable moment.

It was Katherine Ryder who stepped forward. She was beautiful, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed, her silk blouse and pearls radiating an effortless, old-money elegance. She moved with the serene confidence of a woman who had never encountered an obstacle she couldn’t have removed. Her smile was perfectly polite and utterly devoid of warmth.

“Jackson,” she said, her voice smooth as cream. She embraced her son before turning her cool blue eyes on Elara. “And Elara. My dear, you look exhausted. This whole ordeal must be simply dreadful for you.”

Every word was a perfectly polished dart. Ordeal. Dreadful. The words confirmed every fear Elara had ever had. To Katherine Ryder, this wasn't a tragedy; it was a social inconvenience, a mess her son had gotten himself into.

“Mrs. Ryder, Mr. Ryder,” Elara murmured, feeling woefully underdressed and out of place in her worn jeans and faded hoodie.

“We came as soon as Jackson told us,” Katherine continued, gliding over to one of the armchairs and gesturing for them to sit. It was a command, not an invitation. “Of course, we were shocked. Utterly shocked. If you had only reached out sooner, dear, we could have ensured you had… proper arrangements.”

The implied criticism hung in the air. Proper arrangements. A better hospital. Better doctors. A better life than the one Elara could provide. It was the same argument she’d had with Jax in the cafeteria, but wielded with the surgical precision of a seasoned expert.

“The doctors here are excellent,” Elara said, her voice stronger than she expected. She would not let this woman diminish the people who were saving her son’s life.

Katherine’s smile tightened infinitesimally. “Of course. But a child’s health, especially with such a… complicated start, is not something to be left to chance. Did you have adequate prenatal care? Was there anything that might have indicated this would happen?”

The questions were a quiet interrogation, designed to unearth fault, to place blame. Elara felt her face flush, the shame and anger a hot mix in her throat. Jax, who had been standing silently beside his father, shifted his weight.

“Mom,” he began, a warning tone in his voice.

But Katherine wasn't finished. She leaned forward, her expression a mask of manufactured sympathy. “Your family, Elara. Are they helping you through this? Jackson said you were managing on your own. I find that so… hard to imagine.”

It was the final, devastating blow. A judgment not just on her, but on her entire world. The unspoken words screamed in the silence: What kind of people are you from that they would leave you to handle this alone?

Elara opened her mouth to defend her family, to explain that she had chosen this isolation to protect them, to protect Jax. But before she could speak, Jax stepped forward, moving to stand slightly in front of her, a human shield.

“Stop.”

The word was quiet, but it cracked through the room like a whip. Richard Ryder raised an eyebrow. Katherine looked at her son, startled.

“Jackson, I am only trying to understand—”

“No,” Jax cut her off, his voice dropping low and fierce. “You’re not trying to understand. You’re trying to find someone to blame. And you’re looking at the wrong person.”

He turned his head slightly, his gaze softening for a fraction of a second as it met Elara’s, before hardening again as he faced his parents.

“For the past three weeks, while I was at practice and Dad was at the office and you were at whatever charity luncheon was on the calendar, Elara has been sitting in that plastic chair downstairs. She hasn’t slept. She has barely eaten. She has watched every single beep on that monitor and has held our son’s hand through alarms that would make your heart stop. She hasn’t had a team of Ryder-approved specialists or a private waiting room. She has had herself. And that has been more than enough.”

Elara stared at his back, her heart hammering against her ribs. He wasn't defending her as his ex-girlfriend. He was defending her as a mother.

“She is not some problem you need to manage, Mom,” Jax continued, his voice ringing with a conviction she had never heard from him before. “She is the mother of your grandson. She is the strongest person I have ever known. And the only failure in this entire situation is mine. For not being here. For not knowing.”

He took a half-step back, his hand finding the small of Elara’s back in a gesture of unwavering solidarity. The warmth of his touch seeped through her thin hoodie, a silent anchor in the turbulent room.

Katherine Ryder was speechless, her perfectly composed face finally showing a crack. Richard looked at his son, his expression shifting from detached assessment to something that looked almost like surprise, maybe even respect. They had come here to take control, to manage a crisis. They had not expected to be confronted by their son, a man they suddenly didn’t seem to recognize.

“Elara and I are going back to our son now,” Jax said, his voice leaving no room for debate. He was no longer their golden boy, their legacy. He was Leo’s father.

As he guided her toward the door, away from the silent, stunned clash of the Ryders, Elara felt a tectonic shift beneath her feet. Jax hadn’t just defended her; he had claimed her. He had stood against the very world she believed would destroy him, and he had chosen her. He had chosen them. In front of the two people who were the silent, powerful reason she had left, he had just redrawn the lines of their entire relationship.