City General Hospital. The smells were different here than at the private clinic. More bleach, more desperation.
Seraphina lay on the examination table in the VIP wing of the Obstetrics department. Zoe was looking at a file, her brow furrowed.
We have a problem, Zoe said.
Seraphina sat up, clutching her paper gown. What is it? Can't we do the procedure?
Zoe turned the clipboard around. You are Rh-negative, Sera. O-negative blood type.
I know that. So?
And your uterine lining is incredibly thin, Zoe continued. It's likely due to stress and... well, genetics.
Zoe took a deep breath. If we perform a surgical abortion now, with your blood type and the condition of your uterus, the risk of scarring is extremely high. You might develop antibodies that would attack future pregnancies.
She looked Seraphina in the eye. If you terminate this pregnancy, there is an eighty percent chance you will never be able to carry a child again. And the procedure itself... you could hemorrhage.
The room went silent. The hum of the air conditioner sounded like a roar.
Seraphina put her hand on her stomach. Never?
Zoe nodded. As your doctor, I advise against it. As your friend... I will support whatever you choose. But you need to know the cost.
Seraphina closed her eyes. She hated Julian. She hated what he had done. But the thought of never being a mother? The thought of this being her only chance?
Her phone buzzed on the side table. She glanced at it, expecting another threat from Julian. Instead, it was a low balance alert from her bank. Her account was overdrawn by twenty dollars. The monthly maintenance fee had hit.
She stared at the red numbers. $ -20.00.
She was completely broke. She had rejected the settlement. She had no job. She had a baby on the way that she couldn't afford to feed, let alone raise.
But then she remembered the email she had drafted weeks ago. The submission to Project: Ethereal. She had hesitated to send it because of Julian. Because he hated her music.
"I have talent," she whispered to herself. "I can write."
She looked at the ultrasound monitor. The screen was black and gray. There, in the center, was a tiny, pulsing flicker of white light.
The heartbeat.
It wasn't Julian's mistake. It was her miracle.
I'm keeping it, Seraphina whispered.
Zoe let out a breath she seemed to have been holding for ten minutes. Thank god.
But, Zoe warned, pulling out a prescription pad. You are high risk. Extremely high risk. You need absolute bed rest. No stress. No shouting. No emotional shocks.
Seraphina took the prescription. I'm leaving New York. I'll go to Europe. Or anywhere cheap. Anywhere far.
Good, Zoe said. Go now. Don't go back to the penthouse.
Seraphina put on her coat. She pulled her hat low. She grabbed her bag and walked out of the exam room toward the elevators.
She pressed the down button.
The elevator doors dinged and slid open.
A wall of noise hit her.
Flashbulbs popped like strobe lights. A dozen people with cameras and microphones spilled out of the elevator cars.
Harper West is on the 4th floor! someone shouted. Julian Sterling just parked his car!
Seraphina backed away, shielding her face. She was on the 3rd floor. They were heading up.
She ducked into the stairwell door just as the mob rushed past. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
She was trapped. The press was swarming the building. If she went out the front, they would see her. If she stayed, Julian might see her.
She looked at the stairwell. Down was blocked by security guards managing the press. Up was the oncology ward where Harper was.
She checked her phone. Breaking News: Harper West condition critical. Julian Sterling arrives at City General.
She leaned against the concrete wall, feeling dizzy. The smell of dust and concrete filled her nose. She had to get out. She had to protect the baby.
She decided to wait. Wait for the storm to pass. But then the door above her opened. Footsteps echoed on the metal stairs.
