Chapter 10 - The Sudden Pain|
I hurried back inside, eager to reassure Emily that the danger had passed. But as I sprinted up the stairs toward the master bedroom, a sharp, horrific scream cut through the air.
“Mom! Help me!”
I threw the bedroom door open and froze. Emily was collapsed on the hardwood floor, her hands desperately clutching her abdomen. Her face was deathly pale, drenched in cold sweat, and a large puddle of fluid had soaked through her dress onto the rug.
Her water had broken.
“Mom... it hurts so bad...” Emily gasped, her chest heaving as tears spilled down her cheeks. “Lily... something’s wrong with the baby!”
The unbearable psychological stress from the social media scandal, combined with the sheer terror of Brandon trying to smash through the front door, had triggered sudden, severe premature labor. She was barely thirty-two weeks pregnant.
“Stay calm, my sweet girl! Look at me, take deep breaths!” I yelled, dropping to my knees beside her while frantically dialing 911 on my cell phone.
Within eight minutes, the wailing sirens of an advanced life support ambulance roared up our driveway. Paramedics rushed into the bedroom with a stretcher, hooking Emily up to monitors while firing rapid questions at me.
I gripped Emily’s freezing hand tightly as they wheeled her down the stairs and loaded her into the back of the rig. She was drifting in and out of consciousness from the unbearable contractions, whimpering the same terrified words over and over again:
“Don't let them take Lily, Mom... please don't let them take my baby...”
“No one is taking her,” I gritted my teeth, squeezing her fingers until my knuckles turned white. “I swear on my life, no one will ever touch her.”
At the hospital, Emily was rushed through the double doors of the labor and delivery unit. I stood in the sterile hallway, my heart pounding violently against my ribs as I prayed to God for both of their lives.
Suddenly, the harsh clatter of high heels echoed down the quiet hallway.
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I turned around to see Patricia Vale charging toward me. Her expensive clothes were wrinkled, her makeup was smeared, and her eyes burned with pure, unadulterated madness.
“Where is my grandchild?” Patricia screamed at the top of her lungs, pushing past a startled nurse. “Where is my Vale heir?”
