Author's Preface
The news spread quickly through the Children’s Department, brought by Ingrid herself. Her expression was very serious, a sharp contrast to the usual morning activity.
“Liv has given birth,” Ingrid announced gently, keeping her voice low enough only for those nearby to hear. “But the baby arrived too early, only seven months along. It’s a little girl. She’s now in the NICU under close observation. They’re monitoring her breathing and weight. She’s stable… but it’s still too soon to be certain.”
A heavy silence settled over the room. Cara paused working, her fingers tightening around her pen. Her heart sank. Too early. She knew well enough what that meant. Even with modern care, premature birth carried risks. She thought of Liv, how bright and hopeful she had been throughout her pregnancy and her chest grew tight.
“Is Liv alright?” she asked, concern clear in her tone.
Ingrid nodded slowly. “She’s exhausted and in pain, but conscious. The problem is she refuses to stay still; she keeps asking about work.”
Clara sighed. Of course she does. She understood that urge all too well to keep moving, to stay busy, so you wouldn’t have to face the thoughts and fears weighing on your mind.
They returned to their desks, though the usual rhythm felt slower and heavier. Everyone’s attention lingered on their department head and her newborn.
Then, just before noon, the office door opened.
All heads turned.
Liv Andersen stood there, leaning weakly against the frame. She still wore loose maternity clothing, but her face was alarmingly pale, her lips almost colorless, with dark circles beneath her eyes that no makeup could hide.
“Liv?” Clara was on her feet in an instant, her chair scraping against the floor. She hurried over, worry etched across her face. “We thought you were still in the hospital! What are you doing here?”
Liv offered a faint, strained smile, trying to sound lighter than she felt. “I missed everyone. I told them I couldn’t stay cooped up in that bed forever. I needed to be somewhere familiar.”
But Clara saw the truth behind that smile, the slight tremor in her hands, the shallow way she breathed, as if every movement drained her strength.
“You look sick,” Clara said softly, resting a gentle hand on her arm. “You’re so pale. You should be resting.”
“I’m fine, really,” Liv insisted, though her voice came out thin and weak. “Just… too much worry. Being here helps. It keeps my mind occupied.”
Clara wanted to argue, but she knew exactly what it was like to want an escape from fear.
“Very well,” she said instead, moving closer to support her weight without drawing too much attention. “But if you feel even the slightest bit dizzy, you sit down at once. Do you understand?”
Liv gave a small, grateful nod. “I understand.”
An hour later, Liv insisted they attend a previously scheduled meeting. She tried to walk on her own, so Clara stayed right beside her, steadying her whenever her steps faltered. They were halfway down the hallway when it happened.
One moment Liv was speaking softly about deadlines; the next, her legs simply gave way.
“Liv!”
Clara’s heart leaped into her throat. She lunged forward, catching her just before she hit the floor. Liv went completely limp in her arms, her skin cold and clammy.
“Help! Someone, please help!” Clara called out, panic rising fast. She pressed two fingers to Liv’s neck, relieved to feel a faint but steady pulse. “Please, hurry!”
Footsteps came rushing from both ends of the corridor. Then a familiar set of long strides cut through the crowd.
Clara looked up.
It was Zoren.
His expression shifted instantly from mild curiosity to sharp alarm the second he saw them. He wasted no time asking questions, he knelt beside them, helping Clara support Liv’s unconscious form.
“She collapsed,” Clara explained, her voice shaking, eyes wide with fear. “She was fine just a minute ago… she insisted on coming to work…”
“Call the emergency response team,” Zoren ordered one of the staff nearby. Then he turned back to Clara. “We cannot wait. Help me carry her to my car, it will be faster.”
Clara hesitated only briefly. Glancing at Liv’s pale, still face, she knew there was no other choice. She nodded.
Together they lifted Liv carefully. Clara supported her shoulders, keeping her head steady, while Zoren held her legs. They moved quickly but gently through the building, past shocked colleagues, and out to the private entrance where his car waited.
The drive to the hospital was quiet and tense.
Clara sat in the back, holding Liv’s hand the whole way. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, unchecked. She brushed damp strands of hair from Liv’s forehead, whispering words of comfort she wasn’t sure Liv could hear.
Please… please be alright.
Memories came flooding back of when she herself had been young, alone, and terrified when Amara fell ill. No one had been there to share that weight with her. Seeing Liv in the same helpless position tore at her heart.
In the front seat, Zoren watched her through the rear‑view mirror. He saw how her hands trembled, the raw fear in her eyes, not just for a coworker, but as if she feared for someone she loved deeply.
A strange, heavy ache settled in his chest. How does she do it? he wondered. How does she carry so much care for everyone around her?
Hours passed.
Clara sat alone on a bench in the quiet hospital corridor, elbows resting on her knees, face buried in her hands. The wait felt endless. The doctors had taken Liv away immediately, leaving her with nothing but her thoughts.
She didn’t notice the approaching footsteps until a shadow fell over her.
She looked up.
Zoren stood there, holding two paper cups. He sat down beside her, keeping a respectful distance, yet close enough that his presence felt steady and grounding.
“Here,” he said softly, offering one cup. “I hope you don’t mind tea, there was no coffee left in the machine.”
Clara accepted it automatically, wrapping her cold fingers around the warm cup. She looked at him in quiet surprise. How did he guess I prefer tea?
“Thank you,” she whispered, blowing gently on the steam. “Sir… you didn’t have to stay.”
“I wasn’t going to leave you here alone,” Zoren replied simply. He leaned back against the wall, his gaze drifting down the hall. “You always seem to be the one everyone turns to when help is needed. I’ve been wondering why.”
Clara frowned, confused. She studied his face— it was hard to tell if he was genuinely curious or just teasing. “What do you mean, sir?”
“First, my son,” he said, glancing sideways at her, his voice low and smooth with that familiar hint of quiet amusement she was starting to recognize. “Then Liv. You step in without hesitation every time. Almost like a personal superhero.”
Clara caught the light mockery in his tone. She straightened up and met his eyes, already ready to match his attitude. What has gotten into him now? she thought.
“Believe me, Mr. Eikland,” she said, a touch of sharpness in her voice. “I have no hidden powers, no magic, and certainly no special tricks up my sleeve or anywhere else on my body... no matter how much you might suspect it.”
At that, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of Zoren’s mouth. “Are you quite sure? Because I wouldn’t mind checking, just to be certain.”
Clara’s face flushed hot red as the true meaning of his words sank in. “I hardly think this is the time or place for such things,” she replied, refusing to back down.
Zoren’s smirk widened. Feisty. Then he heard her let out a long, shaky breath.
“I’m just so worried,” Clara admitted, her voice softening. “Liv has no one else. The baby’s father… he wants nothing to do with them.” She paused, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. A coward. Knowing Liv faced the same lonely path she had walked with Amara made her feel even more connected to her.
“She is strong,” Zoren said gently after a moment. “And now she has you. That counts for more than you know.”
Before Clara could reply, the door to the ward opened. A doctor in scrubs stepped out and looked around.
“Is there a family member here for Liv Andersen?”
Clara stood up quickly, her legs stiff from sitting so long. “I am...or as close as it gets. I’m her closest friend and colleague; I’m like family to her.”
The doctor smiled kindly. “She’s stable now. Her blood pressure dropped dangerously low from stress and pushing herself far too hard. But she’s awake and resting. You may visit, but keep it calm; she needs her strength.”
Relief washed over Clara so strongly she almost swayed on her feet. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
She walked into the room slowly. Clara walked into the room. Liv lay there, looking small and weak, with tubes in her arm. But she smiled when she saw Clara.
“Clara…” she whispered, reaching out a hand.
Clara hurried to her side and held it tightly. Tears spilled over again, dropping onto the sheets.
“Oh, Liv,” she choked out, laughing through her tears. “You scared me to death. Why on earth did you come to work? Why wouldn’t you just rest?”
Liv squeezed her hand gently. “I just… I needed something to take my mind off things. I was so afraid for the baby, for us.” Her eyes glistened. “But you were there. You caught me. Thank you.”
She took a slow, shaky breath. “I named her Claire,” she said softly. “Claire Liv Andersen— after you. You’ve been such a wonderful friend to me. I can’t possibly say how grateful I am.”
Clara pressed a hand over her mouth, tears coming faster. Claire.
The name struck her deep in the heart. It brought back all the years she had spent raising Amara alone, after Marco passed— the struggle, the fear, the love that had to be strong enough for one person. She knew exactly what Liv was facing.
“Clara,” Liv said, her tone turning serious. “I need to be honest. I’m not getting any younger, and the doctors have warned me about the complications both I and the baby face. So I’m asking this of you... please take charge of the Children’s Division while I recover.”
Clara shook her head immediately. “You don’t need to worry about any of that. I promise everything will be taken care of but please don’t talk as if you won’t be back. You will hold your baby, and you will return to work before you know it.”
Liv could only nod, unable to speak past the tightness in her throat. Clara leaned closer and squeezed her hand again. “I promise. I will look after everything. Just rest now and get well.”
From the doorway, Zoren stood leaning against the frame, unnoticed. He watched everything and heard Clara promise to carry Liv’s burdens as if they were her own.
Then he remembered what Mikkel had told him before: She looked like an angel.
He remembered how she had thrown herself in front of a speeding car without a second thought to save his son. He remembered her in the boardroom, speaking with a wisdom far beyond her age. He remembered their night at the club— and how she had stayed in his thoughts every single day since.
Is it true? he wondered, his gaze drifting to the window where snowflakes fell softly outside. Is my son right? Is she truly an angel, sent to help anyone in need?
Standing there, listening to her with all that kindness in her heart… he was starting to believe it really was true.