Chapter 1 - THE ORDER THAT ALMOST KILLED ME
“Turn off the epidural.”
My husband’s palm slammed over the control panel before the delivery nurse could adjust it. The cable jerked against the side of my bed.
For half a second, the room went silent.
Then another contraction ripped through me.
I arched against the mattress, both hands locking around the metal rail. The overhead surgical lamp burned above my face. Sweat had soaked my hair and the pink hospital gown clinging to my shoulders.
“Dr. Pierce, move your hand,” the nurse said.
Preston did not move.
He stood over me in his white medical coat, gold buttons shining beneath the cold hospital lights. He was not looking at me as his wife. He was looking at me as a problem inside his operating room.
“I’m the attending physician,” he said. “I’ll decide what she needs.”
The nurse pushed his hand away from the panel and stepped protectively beside me.
“Her blood pressure is unstable. The baby is measuring over ten pounds, and his position hasn’t changed. We need to prepare for a C-section.”
Preston’s jaw tightened.
Behind him, Khloe Mercer stood near the open doorway in blue scrubs. Her blonde hair was pulled away from her face, and her eyes were wet.
She looked frightened.
That frightened me more than Preston’s anger.
I was Dr. Elena Vance, Chief of Emergency Medicine at Lakeshore Memorial in Chicago. I had spent fifteen years watching the human body warn people before disaster struck.
My body was warning everyone now.
“He can’t fit,” I said through clenched teeth. “Preston, listen to me. I need surgery.”
He stepped into my line of sight and gripped the top of the bed rail.
“Stop making a spectacle.”
His voice was low enough that only the people closest to the bed could hear it.
I stared at him.
Seven years of marriage reduced to five cold words.
An hour earlier, Khloe had knocked a medication tray beside my bed. When I reacted to the crash, she told Preston I had shoved her.
He believed her without asking me a single question.
For months, she had been telling him I humiliated her during rounds, undermined her training, and treated her like a servant. Every accusation made him more protective of her and more contemptuous of me.
Now he was using my labor to punish me.
Another contraction struck.
My entire body pulled backward. I gripped the rail with everything I had.
The metal tore loose with a sharp mechanical crack.
The broken rail fell against the side of the bed.
The nurse spun and slammed the emergency call button.
The monitor alarm accelerated.
Preston’s expression finally changed.
“Her pressure is crashing!” the nurse shouted.
Khloe stumbled backward into the doorway and covered her mouth.
Medical staff rushed toward us. Someone moved Preston aside. Someone else placed an oxygen mask over my face.
I heard orders for blood, surgery, anesthesia.
My fingers loosened around the broken rail.
The last thing I saw before the ceiling disappeared was Preston staring at me as if he had only just realized I could die.
When I opened my eyes again, I was in a recovery room.
My abdomen burned beneath fresh bandages. My throat felt raw. A monitor beeped steadily beside me.
“Your son is safe,” a nurse whispered. “He’s in the nursery being evaluated, but he’s breathing on his own.”
I closed my eyes as relief moved through me.
Then the door opened.
Preston entered with Khloe behind him.
He looked at the folder on the table beside my bed.
His face lost all color.
“No,” he whispered.
Khloe closed the door.
Preston looked from her to me, then back to the folder.
His knees buckled.
He caught himself against the wall before sliding to the floor.
May you like
That was when I understood something had happened while I was unconscious.
Something Preston had feared more than losing me.
