watered.
Adrian stood quickly. “Don’t move.”
“I’m not laughing because it’s funny,” I breathed. “I’m laughing because Victor always said insurance companies were heartless. Turns out he was only afraid they were thorough.”
For the first time, Adrian almost smiled.
Almost.
Then the door opened again, and a doctor stepped in. She was in her early forties, with dark hair pulled back and a calm gaze that made the room feel less fragile.
“I’m Dr. Maren Walsh,” she said. “I’m overseeing your care tonight. Mrs. Hale, you’ve been through serious trauma. We’ve managed to avoid emergency delivery for now, but we need to be honest. You and the baby remain at risk. Our priority is keeping you stable as long as we safely can.”
“How long?” I asked.
“Every hour helps. Every day would be better.”
