Chapter 4 - THE RACE AGAINST TIME
The rain beat down like a volley of bullets against the Aston Martin’s windshield as Ethan tore down the narrow, twisting mountain roads. The sports car’s engine screamed, its tachometer hovering near the redline with every gear shift. Beside him, Nora was tucked into the passenger seat, wrapped tightly in Ethan’s warm wool coat. Her face was as white as fresh snow, her breath shallow and fluttering like a dying bird’s wings.
"Stay with me, Nora," Ethan begged, his voice cracking. With his right hand, he steered through the dangerous curves; with his left, he held Nora’s freezing fingers, pressing them against his cheek. "Look at me, sweetheart. Don't close your eyes."
"It hurts so much, Ethan..." Nora whispered. A tear tracked through the dried mud and blood on her cheek. "I can't feel her... she stopped kicking..."
Ethan’s heart broke into a thousand jagged pieces. The pain in his shattered shoulder was nothing compared to the agony ripping through his soul. He had done this. His arrogance, his distance, his foolish vulnerability to Vanessa’s calculated seduction—he had built the toxic web that trapped his wife and unborn child.
"She’s fighting, Nora. She’s strong like her mother," Ethan swore, though his own tears blurred the dark road ahead. He slammed his foot down harder on the gas pedal. "Just hold on. We're five minutes away."
He had already bypassed the remote local clinic and called ahead to Albany Medical Center’s Trauma and Maternity Unit, pulling every billionaire favor and connection he possessed. A full surgical team was standing by in the bay.
The lights of the hospital emerged through the dark wall of rain like a beacon. Ethan didn't even park. He slammed the car into the red emergency bay zone, throwing the door open.
"STREATCHER! I NEED A SURGICAL TEAM NOW!" Ethan’s roar echoed through the glass doors of the ER.
Within seconds, doors burst open. Paramedics and trauma doctors rushed out with a gurney. Hands grabbed Nora, lifting her gently from the seat. Dr. Aris Thorne, the chief of obstetrics on call, took one look at Nora’s pale face and the blood-soaked coat and swore under his breath.
"Placental abruption! Fetal heart rate is dangerously low!" Dr. Thorne barked as they pushed the gurney down the brightly lit corridor at a run. "Prep Operating Room 3 for an emergency C-section! Call Anesthesia!"
Ethan ran alongside the gurney, gripping Nora’s hand till the very doors of the surgical wing.
"Ethan..." Nora looked up at him through heavy eyelids. Her voice was barely a breath. "If you have to choose... save her. Save our baby girl..."
"No! I'm saving both of you!" Ethan cried out, but the scrub nurses pulled him back.
"Sir, you cannot enter without sterile gear! Stay back!"
May you like
The double doors slammed shut in Ethan’s face. The bright red light above the door illuminated: OPERATING IN PROGRESS.
Ethan stood alone in the cold, sterile hallway. He dropped to his knees on the polished tile floor. The man who ruled boardroom empires, who controlled billions in capital, was completely powerless. He pressed his forehead against the cold wall and wept openly, praying to a God he hadn't spoken to in years, bargaining his wealth, his company, his very life, if only his wife and daughter survived the night.
