A wave of pain tore through my lower body. I groaned involuntarily—and someone gripped my hand tight.
"Linda!!"
Mom. Dad.
My mother's usually immaculate hair was disheveled, her eyes swollen and red. When she saw me awake, her voice broke. "Linda, it's okay. It's going to be okay..."
It took me a moment to register where I was—lying on a gurney being rushed toward the operating room.
"Doctor, the patient is hemorrhaging!"
"We may not be able to save the baby. Where's her husband? We need his signature for the procedure."
"She's my daughter—I can sign! Doctor, please, you have to save her—"
"Hospital policy requires the patient's husband for emergency procedures of this nature. It may affect her future fertility."
The doctor's urgent commands, my mother's pleas, my father's furious voice—all tangled together in chaos.
I lay there gasping, fighting wave after wave of agony. Then I heard my father on the phone with James.
"James Stevens! Get to this hospital. Now!"
The voice on the other end sounded surprised. "Dad? Is Linda throwing another fit about going to the hospital? Ever since she got pregnant, she's been paranoid, always convinced something's wrong with the baby."
"It's just pregnancy. A friend of mine was unclogging toilets, changing lightbulbs, and hauling packages when she was months along."
"Linda is just too delicate."
Each word was an accusation. My father's rage finally boiled over. His voice came out through gritted teeth: "If you don't get here right now, the Hayward family will never let this go."
James had built his company himself, but many of his connections had come through my father. There was a hesitation on the other end of the line.
But just then, a woman's startled cry came from the other end of the line.
"Oh no! James, Charlie just threw up..."
"Let me see!" James's voice turned urgent, then hurried: "Dad, you really need to stop spoiling Linda so much. Something's come up here—I have to go. I'll talk to her properly tonight."
Click.
The dial tone echoed through the corridor. After a long moment, my father ground out through clenched teeth: "Proceed with the surgery. Her husband is dead to me. Any problems, I'll take responsibility. I'll sign whatever needs signing."
Cold anesthetic crept into my veins. My eyelids grew heavier, but my body felt lighter and lighter, as if it might float away.