The Blood Bank for His Son

The first contraction folded me around my stomach and forced a cry through my teeth. I had treated enough complicated pregnancies to recognize the rhythm. Too soon. I was only seven months along. Pain ran up my spine and stayed there. When I looked down, blood had already soaked through the white sheet. The red patch spread under my legs while I watched. The fetal heart monitor gave a thin, broken wail. The reading dropped, recovered, then dropped again. I hit the emergency button with a wet palm. "I'm hemorrhaging. Get my team in here now!" A young nurse rushed in. She stopped at the blood, then nearly dropped her tablet trying to unlock it. Her thumb missed the screen twice. "Mrs. Thorne, I'm so sorry." "For what? Get Dr. Evans. Get my delivery team." Another contraction cut off the rest of the sentence. I gripped the rail until my palm hurt. The nurse looked at the screen instead of me. "They're unavailable. Mr. Thorne gave a direct order. The senior genetics and neonatal teams were redirected." "Where?" "The penthouse suite. Fiona's son. Leo." Fiona had arrived six months ago with a sick child and a claim that Adrian was his father. She had no old photographs, no messages, and no history anyone could verify. Adrian accepted her story anyway. Now her name was on the order that had emptied my floor. A second alarm sounded from the monitor bank, lower and faster than mine. Aria's room. One floor below. My four-year-old daughter had a rare blood disorder. A sudden fall in her counts could turn dangerous in minutes. That alarm was supposed to bring the best doctors in the Thorne empire to her bed. Those doctors were upstairs with Leo. I grabbed my phone and called Adrian's encrypted private number. He had reserved it for emergencies. He told me never to use it unless a life depended on him answering. Both of our children qualified. It rang twice. "Adrian's office." Fiona answered. "Put him on." "Oh, Chloe. Leo's fever just spiked. Adrian is worried sick. You understand, don't you?" Blood slid warm beneath my hip. I could hear voices and rolling equipment behind Fiona, the entire penthouse team working around Leo. "I am hemorrhaging. Give him the phone." There was a rustle, then Adrian spoke. "What is it, Chloe? I'm in the middle of something." "The baby is coming too early. Aria's alarm is going off too. Send my team back. Please, Adrian." "You're bleeding?" For one second he sounded alert. A chair scraped near the receiver. Fiona whimpered, too soft for me to catch the words. When Adrian spoke again, the concern was gone. "Stop being so damn dramatic. Leo is fighting for his life. He is my son and my heir. His life matters more right now. Your jealousy can wait." Jealousy. He had heard two alarms and decided I was jealous. "Adrian, please." The call ended. The monitors kept screaming. I reached for the call button again, but my fingers slid off the rail. Their lights smeared across my vision as the room tipped sideways. I thought of Aria downstairs and the little boy still inside me. Then everything went black.