The Rose He Killed novel Chapter 289

Chapter 254: Emergency

Bella POV

Claim

It was four in the morning when the blue light of my phone woke me. I rolled over on the narrow hospital bed, my hand reaching for the nightstand. The screen was flashing with a fresh notification from a celebrity gossip blog.

The headline was loud, bold, and ugly.

SPOTTED: BILLIONAIRE CALEB BLACK CAUGHT IN PARIS HOTEL ROOM WITH ACQUISITIONS

DIRECTOR NADINA VOLKOVA.

My fingers went cold as I tapped the link. The video loaded instantly. It was a close-up, shaky recording from inside a hotel suite. Nadina was there, her body pressed tight against his, wearing a thin, flimsy red silk dress. I watched as she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulled his neck down, and kissed him deeply. Caleb was right there, locked in the frame with her.

A sharp, violent pain slammed into my lower stomach. I gasped, dropping the phone onto the hard linoleum floor. The device clattered against the ground, the video still looping in the dark room.

I clutched my belly, my breath hitching as another wave of pressure tore through my pelvis. It wasn’t like the mild cramps I had felt last week. This was a deep, tearing contraction that made my whole body lock

“No, no, no,” I whispered, my voice breaking in the dark.

I reached for the red emergency call button on the wall and pressed it down, holding it until the light blinked furiously.

The door burst open seconds later. Linda, the head night nurse, rushed in with two orderlies behind her. She took one look at my face, then down at my white-knuckled hands gripping the metal guardrails of the bed.

“Bella, look at me,” Linda commanded, her voice steady but fast. She grabbed my wrist to check my pulse while her other hand went straight to the fetal monitor readout

The machine was already emitting a high-pitched, uneven beep. The steady rhythm of my baby’s heart was dropping, the numbers on the screen plunging from the safe zone down into the double digits.

“The heart rate is decelerating,” Linda called out to the orderlies. “She’s in active, precipitous labor. Get Dr. Okafor right now! Prepare the operating room for an emergency C-section!”

“The baby,” I choked out, a hot tear spilling down my cheek as another contraction seized my abdomen making me arch off the mattress. “He’s only thirty weeks old. Linda, please.”

“I know, honey. I know,” Linda said, her face completely serious as she unhooked the brakes on my bed. “Thirty weeks is good. Thirty weeks we can work with. You need to breathe for him right now. Keep your oxygen up.”

The orderlies slammed the double doors open, and my bed was suddenly flying down the bright, sterile hallways of the high-risk ward.

13

Chapter 254 y

The fluorescent ceiling tiles blurred past my eyes like a strobe light. Nurses were running alongside the metal frame, hooking up fresh IV lines and prepping syringes.

Dr. Okafor met us at the double doors of the surgical unit, scrubbing her hands rapidly. “Bella, the baby is under too much distress from the contractions. We cannot wait to give you medicine to stop it. We are taking him out right now.”

Someone squeezed my hand, a mask was pressed over my nose and mouth, and the world faded into a cold, chemical gray.

My eyes blinked open, blurry and heavy, as I looked across the bright room. The doctor was holding up a tiny, squirming body.

He arrived screaming. It was not a weak cry. It was a loud, furious scream that made the surgical team laugh right in the middle of everything. None of us expected so much fight from a baby.

“He’s angry,” someone said.

“He’s a Black,” I whispered, and someone else laughed. Then I started crying.

The nurse by my head immediately leaned down, using a warm cloth to gently wipe the tears from my temples. “Hey, look at me, Bella. Breathe. You did so well.”

“Is he okay?” I choked out, my chest heaving against the tight surgical drape. “Tell me he’s okay.”

“He is doing fantastic,” Dr. Okafor said, her voice loud and steady over the beep of the monitors as she finished up. “Listen to those lungs, mom. That is exactly what we want to hear.”

“He sounds so angry,” I sobbed, a mix of terror and relief crashing over me.

“That anger is a good thing,” someone replied, walking over with a warm blanket. “It means he has strong muscles and plenty of fight. He’s a little warrior.”

“Can I hold him? Just for a second?”

“We have to get him right to the incubator,” the nurse explained softly, squeezing my shoulder. “But we are bringing him right to your face first. Take a deep breath for him.”\

The pediatrician stepped up to my side, lowering the tiny bundle so he was just inches from my face.

My breath caught. He was so incredibly small. His face was the size of a teacup, his skin a flushed, delicate pinkish-red, and his head was covered in a fine layer of dark hair. His tiny eyelids were squeezed shut so tightly his brow was completely furrowed, his little nose wrinkled in pure frustration. He wasn’t just crying; his whole body was vibrating with it.

Both of his hands were free from the blanket, curled into tight, miniature fists that shook in the air as he kicked his legs. I carefully reached out a trembling hand and pressed the tip of my index finger against his cheek.

His skin felt impossibly soft, warm and damp. The moment my finger touched his skin, his little mouth twitched, and his tiny fist swiped out, brushing against my knuckles.

77

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify