The Night We Both Went Into Labor

"What are those?" I shook my head wildly. "I won't take them. Are you trying to kill my child?"

"Medication to delay labor. It will reduce the contractions."

"No. It will suffocate the baby!"

Dr. Lane said nothing.

"Dr. Lane, your wife is due soon too, isn't she? If she were lying here right now, would you feed her this?"

Then I turned to Parker through the pain.

"If anything happens to me or the baby, you are the main culprit. Graham will never let you go."

Dr. Lane and Parker exchanged a look. They were just about to agree to send me to the hospital when Parker's phone rang.

It was Graham.

Parker answered respectfully, and all hesitation disappeared from his face.

"Madam, you heard him," he said helplessly. "Mr. Whitmore said we must wait for him. It is not that I won't help you. I truly cannot."

He gave Mrs. Ward a look.

Two maids immediately pressed down on my shoulders. One forced my mouth open while Mrs. Ward shoved the pills in. I tried to vomit them out, but they slid down my throat.

Tears slipped silently down my face. I stared at the ceiling and suddenly laughed until my tears flowed even harder.

"Fine. Remember this day. If my child dies, I will come back as a ghost and drag every one of you to hell."

"Madam is emotionally unstable," Parker said with a frown. "Give her a sedative so she doesn't hurt herself or the baby. Mrs. Ward, watch her."

The long needle pierced my arm.

I stopped struggling.

So this was what I was worth to Graham. His first love mattered more than his own child.

To protect her baby, he was willing to leave mine on the edge of death.

The more despair I felt, the more I regretted marrying him even when everyone had warned me not to.

I had believed that if I loved him enough, if I was good enough, he would eventually see me.

There were moments when I thought he loved me.

Now I understood.

When someone does not love you, they simply do not love you.

Not even carrying his child could earn half a measure of tenderness.

I stroked the curve of my belly. Blood and amniotic fluid had already soaked the bed.

I slowly closed my eyes as fresh tears wet my face.

"Graham Whitmore, if anything happens to this baby, I will never let you go."

Perhaps the medication worked. The contractions dulled slightly.

But the bleeding did not stop. I lay on the bed, weak and cold, while blood continued to flow beneath me.

Through the haze, I suddenly heard Mrs. Ward say Graham's name.

Hope flared in my chest.

Had he finally softened? Was he finally sending me to the hospital?

I used the last of my strength to shout toward Mrs. Ward's phone.

"Graham, tell them to take me to the hospital. The baby really won't make it!"

Mrs. Ward had put the call on speaker.

But the voice that came through was not Graham's.

It was Natalie Vale's, soft and smug.

"Stella, you have to hold on. Graham is still here with me. He can't come to you right now."

She paused, then instructed Mrs. Ward in that same delicate voice.

"Mrs. Ward, make sure you take good care of her. Make her listen to Graham."

"Natalie, put Graham on the phone…"

Before I could finish, someone clamped a hand over my mouth. I could only make muffled sounds.