Chapter 2

"I want Dr. Peterson," I insisted, pushing through the pain. "Ethan arranged for him."

Nurse Gretchen just smiled, that cold, knowing smile.

"Eleanor' s instructions are very clear, dear. She wants me to handle this. She said you can be... difficult."

Difficult. Because I didn' t want to die? Because I didn' t want my baby to die?

Another wave of pain crashed over me. I cried out.

"Now, now," Gretchen cooed, approaching the bed. "Let' s just see how things are progressing."

Her examination was rough, unfeeling.

"Things are moving along," she announced. "But perhaps a little too quickly for Eleanor' s schedule."

My heart hammered. I knew what was coming.

As the next contraction peaked, and I felt the baby start to crown, Gretchen did the unthinkable.

She pushed.

Against the baby. Trying to force him back in.

An inhuman scream tore from my throat. The pain was beyond anything I' d ever imagined, a blinding, tearing agony.

"Stop!" I shrieked. "You' ll kill him! You' ll kill us both!"

Gretchen' s face was a mask of grim determination. "Just a little delay, dear. For Eleanor. For Brittany' s party."

Her strength was surprising. My body arched, fighting her, fighting the pain.

My baby. My innocent child. She was trying to murder him before he even took his first breath.

The memory of my last baby, so small, so cold at the poisoned christening, fueled a desperate rage.

"Rosa!" I screamed, hoping she was nearby. "Help me!"

The door opened, but it wasn' t Rosa. It was my brother, David.

His face was pale. "Sarah? What' s going on? Rosa said you were in labor, but this woman wouldn't let me in."

"David! Help me!" I sobbed. "She' s hurting the baby!"

Gretchen straightened up, her composure momentarily rattled.

"Mr. Thompson, your sister is just overwrought," she said quickly. "Eleanor left strict instructions. No visitors. It' s for Sarah' s own good."

"My mother wouldn't want this," David said, looking from Gretchen' s hard face to my tear-streaked one. He looked uncertain. He always had a hard time standing up to Eleanor.

"She' s trying to stop the birth!" I cried. "For Brittany' s party!"

Gretchen moved towards a medical tray. I saw a syringe.

"You just need to calm down, dear," she said, her voice like ice. "A little something to help you relax."

Sedate me. Make me unconscious while she did her work, or let the baby die from the trauma.

No. Not again.

As Gretchen reached for my arm with the syringe, I lunged, my teeth sinking deep into the flesh of her hand.

She screamed, a real scream this time, dropping the syringe.

Blood welled from the wound.

"You little bitch!" she snarled, her mask of professionalism gone.

David looked horrified but was still frozen.

Rosa burst in then, alerted by Gretchen' s shriek.

"Mrs. Sarah! What is happening?"

"Call Ethan!" I gasped, clutching my bitten hand, tasting Gretchen' s blood. "Tell him... now!"

Rosa, seeing the syringe on the floor, Gretchen' s bleeding hand, my terror, finally understood the extremity.

She fumbled for her phone, her hands shaking.

"There' s no need to bother Mr. Sterling," Gretchen spat, cradling her injured hand. "He' s overseas. Eleanor is in charge here."

But Rosa was already dialing, her eyes fixed on me with dawning horror and resolve.

I prayed Ethan would understand. I prayed he would come.