Chapter 30: The Baby's Health
419 words
The pain wasn't a tide; it was a serrated blade twisting deep in Sarah’s pelvis. It was too early. Seven weeks too early.
"Get her into Trauma One!" Dr. Evans bellowed, sprinting alongside the gurney. The fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor blurred into violent streaks of white above Sarah’s head.
She gripped Marcus's hand so hard her knuckles turned the color of bone. He was running beside her, his suit jacket discarded, his usually stoic face twisted in terror.
"The protocol!" Marcus shouted over the din of beeping monitors. "Do you have the Blackwood Protocol?"
"We have the data you sent," the doctor yelled back, ripping open a sterile pack. "But we've never tested the counter-agent on a preemie. It's risky."
"Do it!" Sarah screamed, arching her back as another contraction ripped through her, shattering her composure. "Just save him!"
The air in the trauma room smelled of antiseptic and ozone. Sarah gasped for breath, but her lungs felt like they were filled with concrete. The monitors were screaming a high-pitched warning—her blood pressure was bottoming out.
This was the poison. Julian’s legacy. It wasn't enough that he had stolen her money, her home, and her dignity. His greed had poisoned her very blood.
"Fetal heart rate is decelerating," a nurse called out, her voice tight. "Sixty beats per minute. Fifty."
"We're losing him," Dr. Evans muttered, snapping gloves onto his hands. "Sarah, listen to me. You need to push. Now. Or he won't make it."
Sarah looked at Marcus. Tears streamed horizontally into her hairline. "If I don't... promise me you'll ruin him."
"You're going to live, Sarah," Marcus growled, squeezing her hand. "Both of you."
She pushed with everything she had left, channeling every ounce of rage, every night spent sleeping in her car, every humiliation Julian had heaped upon her. She pushed against the world that tried to crush her.
The pressure released suddenly.
"He's out," Dr. Evans said. The urgency in his voice didn't drop.
The room went instantly, terrifyingly quiet. There was no wailing. No gasp of air.
Sarah struggled to lift her head, her vision swimming in dark spots. "Why isn't he crying?" she whispered, the panic rising in her throat like bile.
The medical team swarmed the tiny, limp body on the warming table. He was a dusky, bruised blue. motionless.
"Marcus?" Sarah’s voice broke.
Marcus stared at the table, his face pale. The baby didn't move. The silence stretched, heavier than the grave.
End of Chapter 30
