Chapter 4

Teresa's POV

Pain was all I knew for fourteen hours.

Pain that made me scream until my throat was raw. Pain that convinced me I was going to die on that table.

But I didn't die.

At 6:23 AM, the first baby came and it was a baby boy.

He screamed the moment he entered the world, loud and furious, like he was angry at being forced out of the warmth. The doctor held him up and I saw dark hair, thick and black, plastered to his tiny skull.

"It's a boy," someone said.

They cleaned him quickly, wrapped him in a blue blanket, and placed him on my chest for barely ten seconds before taking him away.

"Wait," I tried to say, but my voice came out weak.

He was already gone.

Twenty-three minutes later, the second baby came and it was a girl. She was smaller than her brother. But her cry was strong, clear, and the sound of it made something crack open inside my chest.

"A girl," the nurse announced, smiling.

They wrapped her in pink and let me hold her for just a moment longer. Her eyes were closed, her tiny fists curled tight.

And then they took her too.

"One more," Dr. Green said from between my legs. His voice was calm but I heard the edge beneath it.

The third baby was my secret.

The contraction hit, and I pushed with all might, every muscle in my body screaming. I felt him move, felt the pressure and the tearing and the horrible sensation of my body giving up everything it had left.

And then he was out.

But there was no cry.

I raised my head, my vision blurry. "Why isn't he crying?”

Just then doctors started hurrying around. Nurses moved fast, their voices sharp and urgent. I tried to sit up but someone pushed me back down.

"Stay still."

"Let me see him!" I shouted, but no one answered.

I watched, helpless, as they worked over the tiny body on the table. His skin was blue and he wasn't moving.

"Come on," one of the doctors muttered. "Come on, baby."

They pressed on his chest with small, rhythmic compressions. Someone fitted a mask over his face, forcing air into lungs that wouldn't work.

Seconds stretched into eternity.

And then, finally, he made a sound. It was weak and barely there. But it was a cry.

Relief flooded through me so fast I thought I might pass out. Tears poured down my face and I didn't bother wiping them away.

"His oxygen levels are low," Dr. Green said, his voice tight. "We need to get him to the NICU. Now."

They wheeled him past me, so fast I barely caught a glimpse.

And then he was gone too.

All three of my babies were gone.

I lay there on the table, bleeding and empty, and just stared at the ceiling.

Hours passed before they moved me to a private room with clean sheets, soft pillows, and a window overlooking the city.

A nurse came in to check my vitals. She smiled, said something about recovery, and left.

But I didn't hear a word because all I could think about was that third baby. The one who hadn't cried. The one whose skin was blue.

Was he okay?

Finally, Dr. Green came and his face told me everything before he even opened his mouth.

"The first two are healthy," he said, standing at the foot of my bed. "Strong. No complications."

I waited.

"The third baby." He paused and adjusted his glasses. "The second boy. He has a severe congenital heart defect."

My stomach twisted.

"The same condition you carry," he continued. "His heart isn't formed properly. He'll need constant monitoring. Likely multiple surgeries."

I couldn't breathe.

"His prognosis is..."

He trailed off.

"Say it," I whispered.

Dr. Green met my eyes. "Uncertain."

I turned my face towards the window and let the tears come.

Dr. Green said something else, something about specialists and treatment plans, but I didn't hear him. All I heard was the word “uncertain.”

After he left, I was alone again.

I stared at the ceiling and just kept trying to breathe through the crushing weight on my chest.

My baby was dying, and I didn't even know his name.

As night fell, the hospital grew quiet. Footsteps in the hallway became sparse and the city lights outside my window blurred together.

I hadn't slept. I couldn't sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his blue skin. Heard the absence of his cry.

Just then, a soft knock at the door made me flinch.

"Come in," I mumbled.

The door opened and Ruth stepped inside. The midwife who had helped deliver all three babies. She was older, maybe fifty, with kind eyes and steady hands.

When she locked the door behind her, my heart skipped.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Ruth moved quickly to my bedside. She glanced at the door, then back at me, her expression tense. "I need you to listen very carefully.”

I sat up straighter, ignoring the pain in my abdomen. "What is it?"

"Tomorrow morning at nine, Timothy Chase's people are coming," Ruth said. "They have court orders. Legal documents. Security. Everything."

The air left my lungs at that moment.

"They are taking the babies," I whispered.

Ruth nodded. "All of them."

"I signed a contract," I stuttered. "I knew this would happen. I knew…"

"Listen to me," Ruth interrupted. She grabbed my hand, her grip strong. "The hospital's official records show twins. The original misdiagnosis was never corrected in the system. Only Dr. Green and I know about the triplet."

I stared at her, my mind struggling to catch up. "What are you saying?"

"The father is coming for a healthy boy and girl," Ruth said slowly. "The sick boy... he doesn't exist on paper."

“I still don't understand.”

"They'll take two," Ruth continued. "But the third could stay with you. If you are willing to do something desperate."

My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst. "What do you mean?"

Ruth leaned closer. "There's a window. Tonight. I can help you disappear with the sick baby. Falsify records. Make it look like he didn't survive the birth."

I couldn't breathe.

"But you need to understand what you would be running from," Ruth warned. “The Chase family is one of the most powerful families in Dhuran. They don't forgive. And they don't forget."

"I can't," I whispered.

"You can. But you have to decide. Now."

I looked towards the door, imagining the NICU just down the hall. Kai, hooked up to machines, struggling to breathe.

Then I thought of the other two. The healthy boy with dark hair. The delicate girl with my nose.

How could I choose?

"If you stay," Ruth said quietly, "you lose all three. The contract is ironclad. Timothy Chase will take them and you'll never see them again."

Tears streamed down my face.

"But if you run," she continued, "you save one. The one who needs you most."

I pressed my hands to my face, trying to think through the panic.

This was impossible.

"What kind of mother chooses between her children?" I choked out.

Ruth's expression softened. "The kind who wants to save at least one."