Chapter 7 - The Panic Attack
I returned to the penthouse feeling a sense of grim satisfaction, but the moment I walked through the double doors, my heart dropped into my stomach. Sarah was slumped against the kitchen island, clutching her chest, gasping for air in short, jagged breaths.
“Sarah!” I rushed forward, catching her before she slid completely to the floor. “I can’t... I can’t breathe,” she panicked, her eyes wide with sheer terror. “My stomach. It’s too early, Arthur, it’s too early.”
I scooped her into my arms, yelling for the security detail to bring the car around instantly. The stress of the last few days, combined with the lingering trauma of my mother’s abuse, had pushed her body past its limits. We sped through the city traffic, the security SUV weaving aggressively through lanes until we reached the private entrance of the most exclusive maternity hospital in the state.
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Nurses rushed her onto a gurney, barking medical terms I couldn't comprehend. I held her hand tightly as they wheeled her down the sterile white corridors. “Her blood pressure is dangerously high,” the attending physician told me grimly. “We need to stabilize her immediately, or she’s going to go into premature labor. The baby’s heart rate is decelerating.”
I stood in the corner of the trauma room, utterly helpless, realizing that my mother’s cruelty was still reaching out like a poison, threatening to take away everything I loved.
