Chapter 6 - THE SCALPEL’S EDGE
The silence inside Operating Room 3 was suffocating, broken only by the rapid, rhythmic beeping of the heart rate monitor.
"Incision made," Dr. Aris announced, his surgical mask damp with sweat under the harsh overhead lights. "Suction! Hurry, we have severe internal bleeding in the retroplacental space!"
The surgical team worked with furious, mechanical precision. Every second mattered. The synthetic drug Isabella had pushed into my IV had forced my uterus into a tetanic contraction, tearing the placenta away from the uterine wall and cutting off the baby's vital oxygen supply.
Outside the double doors, Marcus paced back and forth across the polished corridor floor like a caged animal. His shirt was rumpled, his hands were stained with my blood, and his heart hammered against his ribs like a sledgehammer.
BZZZ. BZZZ.
His heavy corporate phone vibrated in his pocket. He snatched it out, expecting a call from his head of security.
Instead, an unknown number flashed across the screen.
Marcus swiped the green icon and brought the phone to his ear. "Who is this?"
"In three minutes, Marcus," a deep, icy voice spoke over the line, "the board of directors at Mercer Global will receive a high-definition video file showing your Vice President poisoning your pregnant wife."
Marcus stopped dead in his tracks. "What... who are you?"
"I am Julian," the voice replied calmly. "Khloe’s brother. The man whose security systems you ignored when you moved my sister into that hospital."
Marcus’s throat went bone-dry. "Julian... listen to me, I didn't know—"
"You didn't want to know," Julian interrupted, his tone cutting like broken glass. "You were too busy letting Isabella run your company and turn your home into her playground. If my sister dies on that table, Marcus, no police department in this state will be able to protect you from what happens next."
The line clicked dead.
Marcus stared at the dark phone screen, his breathing ragged. Before he could process the call, the heavy doors of Operating Room 3 swung open with a loud metallic thud.
Dr. Aris stepped out, pulling down his blue surgical mask. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion.
"Doctor!" Marcus gasped, rushing forward, his hands trembling. "My wife... the baby..."
"Your wife is stable," Dr. Aris said, breathing a heavy sigh. "We managed to halt the hemorrhage and stitch the uterine wall. She’s under heavy sedation, but she survived."
Marcus collapsed against the wall, dropping his head into his hands as tears of pure, overwhelming relief spilled down his cheeks. "Thank God... thank God..."
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"And the baby?" Marcus rasped, looking up.
Dr. Aris’s face remained grave. "It’s a girl, Mr. Mercer. She was born at twenty-nine weeks. Her lungs are severely underdeveloped due to the sudden oxygen deprivation. We have her in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit on a ventilator. The next forty-eight hours will be critical."
