Chapter 4

The emergency room doors burst open.

Michael was shouting for help, half-carrying Sarah.

Doctors and nurses swarmed, their faces grim as they took in her battered state, the blood.

"Multiple traumas, pregnant, losing a lot of blood!" one yelled.

They rushed her into a trauma bay.

Hands were on her, cutting away her ruined clothes, starting IVs.

A flicker of hope, tiny and fragile, ignited in Sarah' s chest. Maybe her baby...

Then the doors slammed open again.

Ethan.

His face was a mask of fury. His security team fanned out behind him.

"Stop!" Ethan roared, his voice echoing in the sterile room. "Stop treating her!"

The medical team froze, confused, scared.

"Mr. Hayes?" a doctor began.

"Tiff was scratched," Ethan snarled, gesturing vaguely. "She was attacked. This woman," he pointed a shaking finger at Sarah, "this random trash, she' s responsible. She' s going to pay."

Sarah, lying on the gurney, agony ripping through her, found her voice.

It was a hoarse, broken sound.

"Ethan! It' s me! Sarah! It' s Sarah!"

He stared at her, his eyes narrowed. For a moment, a flicker of something – confusion? – crossed his face.

Then it hardened into contempt.

"Trying to impersonate my wife now?" he sneered. He strode forward and kicked the gurney, hard.

Sarah cried out as pain flared.

"My wife is safe! This is some lunatic!"

He turned to the terrified doctors. "She was pregnant. Do a C-section. Now."

A doctor, pale, stammered, "Sir, the fetus... it' s likely not viable given her injuries..."

"I don' t care if it' s viable!" Ethan bellowed. "Tiff wants it. She wants a souvenir. For a... a ritual she does. Get it out of her and give it to my men."

A souvenir. Her baby. For Tiff' s twisted ritual.

The horror was absolute.

One of Ethan' s security men grabbed the dissenting doctor, shoving him aside.

Another doctor, trembling, approached Sarah with a scalpel.