Before Adrian could open his mouth to speak, Jordyn threw her head back and screamed.
It wasn't a fake whimper. It was a blood-curdling, agonizing shriek that tore through the room.
Adrian dropped his phone. He sprinted to the side of the bed and ripped the white blankets back.
A massive pool of dark red blood was spreading rapidly across the pristine white sheets, soaking into Jordyn's hospital gown.
The visual of the blood hit Adrian like a physical blow. He staggered back a half-step.
At that exact second, the fetal heart monitor hooked up to the wall began to blare. A sharp, continuous, high-pitched alarm.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeeep.
The sound was identical to the alarm from three years ago.
Danae's breath caught in her throat. The blood drained from her face. Her hands began to shake uncontrollably as her own PTSD ripped her back to the delivery room.
Adrian's head snapped toward Danae.
His eyes were completely bloodshot. The veins in his neck bulged. The trauma of losing his first child violently collided with the scene in front of him, shattering whatever sanity he had left.
He let out a guttural roar. He lunged across the room like a wild animal.
Adrian's massive hands clamped onto the lapels of Danae's white coat. He lifted her entirely off her feet.
He spun and slammed her body backward into the stainless steel medical cart.
The cart tipped over with a deafening crash. Glass vials of saline and medication shattered across the floor.
Danae's lower back struck the metal edge of the tray. She gasped in agony, her vision flashing white.
Adrian didn't let go. He drove her backward until her spine hit the wall. He pressed his heavy forearm horizontally across her collarbone, crushing her windpipe.
"What did you do?!" Adrian screamed, spit flying from his lips, his face inches from hers.
Danae clawed at his arm. Her face turned a mottled purple. She tried to speak, to say I didn't do anything, but only a choked wheeze escaped her lips.
"You killed my baby!" Adrian roared, his grip tightening.
The door burst open. A Code Blue team rushed in, pushing a crash cart.
Four male nurses saw Adrian strangling Danae. They dropped their equipment and tackled him. It took all four of them to pry his massive fingers off her coat and drag him backward.
Danae collapsed onto the floor, landing in the shattered glass. She clutched her throat, coughing violently, sucking air into her burning lungs.
The medical team lifted Jordyn onto a mobile stretcher. They yelled orders, hooking up IV bags of blood.
As they wheeled the stretcher past Danae, Jordyn's arm dangled off the side.
Jordyn's hand hung limply, covered in blood. But as the stretcher turned the corner, Jordyn's head rolled slightly to the side. Through the chaos of the rushing nurses, Jordyn's eyes locked onto Danae's.
A fleeting, chilling smirk curled the corners of Jordyn's pale lips. It was a look of pure, calculated triumph.
Danae's eyes widened. The realization hit her like a freight train. The perfume. The blood. It was all orchestrated.
She tried to push herself up off the glass to scream, to expose her, but her arms gave out.
Adrian ripped his arms free from the nurses. He stalked over to where Danae sat bleeding on the floor.
He looked down at her. There was no rage left in his eyes. Only a cold, dead emptiness.
"If that child dies," Adrian said, his voice a terrifying, quiet whisper, "I am going to make you beg for death."
