Chapter 2 - SHADOWS IN THE ER
The siren blared through the rainy night as the ambulance tore down the highway. Ethan held Diana’s hand in the back, squeezing it so tightly his knuckles turned white. Her pulse was weak. Every shuddering breath she took felt like a knife in his chest.
“Stay with me, baby,” Ethan begged, kissing her sweat-slicked knuckles. “Please, just hold on. I’m right here.”
Diana’s eyes fluttered open weakly. “Ethan... the baby... save the baby...”
“I’m going to save both of you,” he swore, though fear threatened to paralyze him.
When they arrived at the hospital, the paramedics wheeled Diana through the double doors of the emergency room. Nurses and doctors swarmed around her. Ethan tried to follow, but a nurse held him back.
“Sir, you need to stay in the waiting area! We need to move her into emergency surgery now!”
“She’s seven months pregnant!” Ethan yelled, trying to push past. “What’s happening to her?!”
“Placental abruption,” the doctor shouted over the chaos as they pushed the gurney into the surgical theater. “We have to perform an emergency C-section immediately!”
The heavy doors slammed shut, locked, and the red light above the operating room swung to ON.
Ethan collapsed into a plastic chair in the hallway, burying his face in his hands. The guilt washed over him like a tidal wave. He had been working fourteen-hour days, trying to secure their financial future, completely oblivious to the hell Diana was enduring at home. He knew his sister was spoiled, but he had never imagined she could be so cruel.
Hours stretched into eternity. The silence of the hospital corridor was deafening.
Around 3:00 AM, the emergency room doors finally opened. A middle-aged surgeon stepped out, pulling off her mask. She looked exhausted.
Ethan sprang up instantly. “Doctor! How are they? How is my wife? My baby?”
, The doctor offered a faint, sympathetic smile. “Your wife suffered severe strain and trauma, which triggered premature labor and partial abruption. But we managed to perform the C-section in time.”
Ethan let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for years. “And my baby?”
“It’s a girl,” the doctor said gently. “She’s very small—under three pounds—and her lungs aren't fully developed. She’s currently in the NICU on an incubator and ventilator. The next 48 hours will be critical, but she’s a fighter.”
Tears streamed down Ethan’s face. “Can I see them?”
“Your wife is in recovery. You can see her briefly once she wakes up. But Mr. Vance...” The doctor paused, her expression turning stern. “The severe physical stress and blood pressure spike your wife experienced didn't just happen randomly. There were signs of prolonged physical exhaustion and extreme emotional distress. If she had been pushed any further today... you would have lost both of them.”
Ethan’s heart froze. The doctor’s words echoed in his mind, fueling a dark, burning inferno inside his chest.
This wasn't just neglect. This was torture.
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Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text message from Chloe: “Are you coming home soon? My friends want to come back over. Also, I need gas money.”
Ethan stared at the glowing screen, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the phone. A cold, ruthless clarity washed over him. The naive, forgiving brother was dead.
