Chapter 7 - Inside the Emergency Room
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St. Aurelia Medical Center’s surgical wing was a blur of high-stakes panic. The doors burst open as my gurney was wheeled straight into the trauma bay. Shouted numbers, the metallic clatter of surgical instruments, and the frantic orders of the obstetric team echoed off the tile walls.
"Fetal distress! Heart rate is dropping rapidly!" a doctor yelled over the monitors. "Prep the OR immediately! We need an emergency C-section right now!"
Hands gripped my arms, slipping IV lines into my veins. The heavy doors of the operating room swung open, swallowing me into a sterile, blinding universe of stainless steel and green scrubs. A surgeon leaned over my face, his eyes kind but filled with grim urgency.
"Clara, look at me," he commanded softly. "You're going to feel some pressure, but we are fighting for both of you. Stay with us."
And then the anesthesia took hold, pulling me down into a deep, dreamless abyss where pain could no longer reach me.
Outside in the private family lounge, Evelyn Armitage sat with immaculate posture. She had changed her shoes—the blood-stained pumps from the mansion were gone, replaced by pristine black designer heels. Her hair was re-pinned, her rose lipstick reapplied. She sat with one knee crossed over the other, dabbing daintily at the corner of her dry eyes whenever a nurse walked past. She had already notified Celeste Harrington via text message: Julian will soon be navigating a tragic transition. Lunch next week may be appropriate.
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Evelyn believed she had won. She believed the board, the trust, and the empire belonged to her undisputed control.
She had no idea what was marching down the hospital corridor.
