Chapter 7 - The Emergency
Thursday evening.
A fierce autumn gale battered the Eastern seaboard, knocking out power lines across Southern Connecticut.
Inside the Bedford estate, the backup generators hummed quietly, keeping the warm lights alive inside the house. Claire sat in the comfortable armchair in the nursery, holding a small knitted blanket.
Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain shot through her lower abdomen.
Claire gasped, dropping the blanket, her hand flying to her belly. She tried to stand up, but another contraction hit her—far more intense than the mild Braxton Hicks she had experienced earlier in the week.
“Ethan!” she called out, her voice laced with sudden panic.
Ethan sprinted into the nursery from the adjoining office. “Claire? What’s wrong?”
“The baby…” she panted, sweat instantly breaking out across her forehead. “Something’s wrong. The contractions… they’re two minutes apart.”
Ethan immediately dropped to his knee beside her, taking her hand. Her grip was tight enough to bruise his fingers.
“It’s too early,” Claire whispered, tears of fear welling in her eyes. “I’m only thirty-four weeks.”
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“I’m calling the ambulance,” Ethan said smoothly, pulling his phone out. But as he looked at the screen, his expression tightened. “No signal. The storm blew out the local cell tower.”
He didn't hesitate. He picked Claire up in his arms, carrying her carefully down the grand staircase. “Mrs. Gable! Get the SUV ready! We’re driving her to Westbridge Medical Center in Manhattan right now!”
