Only one name was on the band.
Elena.
Every trace of color drained from Adrian's face. "No." He stared at the name, his voice shaking. "She wasn't pregnant…"
He ripped the drape away from her face. The nearly bloodless face underneath killed his last desperate hope.
"Elena!" He shouted my name and reached for my cheek, but the anesthesiologist caught his arm.
"She's my wife."
Everyone in the room froze. They all knew he'd taken the day off to get married. Not one of them had imagined the pregnant woman dying on his table was his wife.
The department head shoved him back into position. "She's eight weeks pregnant. She called the ambulance herself after falling down the stairs. We've been trying to reach you for two hours. Adrian, this is not the time to lose your head. Save her first
