CHAPTER 42: Emergency

It happened at 2 AM on a Thursday.

I woke up to cramping. Sharp. Low in my abdomen.

"Alexander," I whispered, shaking him. "Something's wrong."

He was awake instantly. "What? What hurts?"

"Cramping. Bad cramping." I sat up carefully. "And I think—I think I'm bleeding."

His face went white. "I'm calling Dr. Patel. Don't move."

While he talked frantically on the phone, I went to the bathroom.

Blood. Not a lot, but enough to terrify me.

"Luna," I whispered, one hand on my belly. "Please be okay. Please."

Alexander appeared at the door. "Dr. Patel says to go to the hospital. Now. She's meeting us there."

The drive to Mount Sinai was a blur. Alexander drove too fast, running red lights, one hand gripping mine.

"She's going to be fine," he kept saying. "She has to be fine."

"What if she's not? What if I'm losing her?"

"You're not. You're not. She's strong. Like her mother."

At the emergency room, they took me immediately. Hospital gown. Monitors. IV.

The cramping continued. The bleeding hadn't stopped.

"Please," I begged the nurse. "Please check on my baby. I'm twenty-one weeks. Please."

"The doctor is coming. Try to stay calm."

How could I stay calm when my daughter might be dying inside me?

Alexander held my hand, his face a mask of controlled terror.

Dr. Patel arrived fifteen minutes later with an ultrasound machine.

"Let's see what's happening," she said calmly.

The gel. The wand. The agonizing seconds of silence.

Then—a heartbeat.

Strong. Fast. Perfect.

"She's okay," Dr. Patel said. "Luna is fine. Heartbeat is strong. She's moving."

I started sobbing. "Thank God. Thank God."

Alexander's head dropped to our joined hands, his shoulders shaking.

"What caused the bleeding?" he asked hoarsely.

"Looks like a small placental abruption. The placenta partially separated from the uterine wall."

"Is that dangerous?" I asked.

"It can be. But yours is minor. The good news is it's stopped progressing. No active bleeding right now."

"But I was bleeding—"

"You were. But it's minimal now. We'll monitor you closely. Bedrest for at least a week. No stress. No physical exertion."

"Can she come home?" Alexander asked.

"I want to keep her for twenty-four hours. Make sure the bleeding doesn't restart. If everything stays stable, she can go home tomorrow night."

---

They moved me to a private room. Victoria arrived within an hour, followed by Catherine.

"How is she?" Victoria asked Alexander in the hallway. I could hear them through the door.

"Stable. Luna is fine. But Bella needs bedrest."

"What caused it?"

"Dr. Patel thinks stress. The lawsuit. James. Everything."

"That bastard," Victoria hissed. "This is his fault."

"We don't know that—"

"Yes, we do. The constant attacks. The threats. The pressure. Bella's been stressed for months. Her body finally said enough."

Catherine's voice was quiet. "What can we do?"

"Nothing. Just... be here. Support her. Help me keep her calm."

When they came in, I pretended I hadn't heard.

"How are you feeling?" Catherine asked gently.

"Scared. Tired. Relieved." I touched my belly. "Luna's okay. That's all that matters."

Victoria sat on the edge of the bed. "You need to rest. Actually rest. No lawsuit talk. No James drama. Nothing stressful."

"The trial is in two months—"

"Patricia can handle it. You focus on staying pregnant."

"Victoria's right," Alexander said. "The trial doesn't matter if we lose Luna."

His voice broke on her name.

"We're not losing her," I said firmly. "I'm going to rest. Follow orders. Do whatever it takes."

---

That night, alone with Alexander in the hospital room, I finally broke down.

"I almost lost her," I sobbed. "Our baby. Because of stress. Because of James and his lawsuit and—"

"Shh. You didn't lose her. She's fine."

"But I could have. What kind of mother puts her unborn child at risk because she can't handle stress?"

"A mother dealing with impossible circumstances." He climbed carefully onto the hospital bed beside me. "This isn't your fault, Bella."

"Isn't it? I agreed to the interviews. The public battles. The—"

"We agreed. Together. As a team." He held me close. "And we're going to get through this. Together."

Luna kicked, strong and insistent.

"She's mad we're upset," I said.

"She's reminding us she's a fighter." He touched my belly. "Just like her mom."

---

Dr. Patel released me the next evening with strict instructions.

"Bedrest. Only bathroom privileges. No stairs. No stress. Someone with you at all times."

"For how long?" I asked.

"At least two weeks. Then we'll reassess."

At home, Alexander had transformed the bedroom into a hospital room. Bell for calling him. Mini fridge stocked with snacks. Tablet loaded with movies and books.

"This is excessive," I said.

"This is necessary." He helped me into bed. "You're not taking any chances. Neither am I."

Victoria appeared with a schedule. "I'm here Mondays and Wednesdays. Catherine has Tuesdays and Thursdays. Dad has evenings and weekends."

"You don't have to—"

"Yes, we do. You're family. This is what family does."

For the next week, I lay in bed feeling useless and bored.

But Luna kept growing. Kept kicking. Kept reminding me why bedrest was worth it.

Alexander barely left my side. He worked from the bedroom, took calls from the bedside chair, slept holding me like I might disappear.

"You don't have to hover," I said one evening.

"Yes, I do. I almost lost you both. I'm allowed to hover."

"We're fine now."

"You're on bedrest because your body said stop. That's not fine. That's a warning."

"A warning I'm heeding. See? In bed. Resting."

He kissed my forehead. "Keep resting. For Luna."

"For Luna," I agreed.

---

On day eight of bedrest, Patricia video-called with news.

"James filed a motion to delay the trial. Citing your medical emergency."

"What?" I sat up too quickly. Alexander steadied me.

"He's claiming you're using the pregnancy as a sympathy tactic. That the medical emergency is convenient timing."

I felt rage bubble up. "Convenient? I almost lost my daughter!"

"I know. And that's exactly what we're going to tell the judge. With medical records. Doctor testimony. Everything."

"What's his angle?" Alexander asked.

"He wants more time to build his case. Hopes public sympathy swings back his way. Thinks you'll look manipulative if you fight to keep the trial date."

"So we're damned either way," I said.

"Not quite. The judge will see through this. Especially when we present evidence that your stress levels—directly caused by James's actions—led to the abruption."

After she hung up, I stared at the ceiling.

"He's blaming me for my own medical emergency," I said quietly.

"He's desperate. Grasping at straws."

"What if the judge believes him? What if people think I faked this?"

"No one thinks that. You're on bedrest in a hospital bed. Your medical records are clear."

"James will find a way to twist it."

"Let him try." Alexander's voice was hard. "Every time he attacks you, he loses more support. He's digging his own grave."

I wanted to believe that.

But as Luna kicked against my hand, I couldn't shake the fear.

James would never stop.

Not until he destroyed us completely.

Or we destroyed him first.