“You owed me everything.”
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Before I could answer…
Emma stepped outside.
She should have been resting.
The doctor had specifically ordered bed rest.
Her face was pale.
One hand rested protectively beneath her stomach.
Still…
She walked until she was standing beside me.
“You also hit me,” she said quietly.
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Everyone turned toward her.
“You refused to let me eat.”
“You locked the kitchen.”
“You demanded the code to the safe.”
“And yesterday…”
She looked directly at my mother.
“…you kicked your own grandchild.”
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My mother’s face twisted with rage.
“How dare you—”
She never finished.
Emma suddenly doubled over.
She gasped.
A dark red stain spread across the front of her light-colored maternity dress.
Everything stopped.
“Emma!”
I caught her before she collapsed.
The drive to Vanderbilt University Medical Center became a blur of sirens, red lights, and desperate prayers.
