Chapter 1: Help Me... The Baby...

A sharp, tearing sensation ripped through June's lower abdomen.

It was so sudden, so violently intense, that her fingers went numb. The glass of water slipped from her hand.

It hit the hardwood floor, shattering into dozens of jagged pieces.

The sound echoed loudly through the massive, empty master bedroom of the Compton estate.

June tried to take a step forward, but her knees buckled.

A cold sweat instantly broke out across her forehead, sticking strands of hair to her skin.

She collapsed onto the expensive Persian rug, both hands flying to her stomach.

Her lungs forgot how to pull in air.

The pain wasn't just a dull ache. It felt like a serrated blade twisting deep inside her organs.

Her vision blurred at the edges, fading into shades of gray.

June knew her body.

She was a medical researcher.

This wasn't a normal pregnancy cramp.

Her vital signs were crashing.

Her phone sat on the nightstand three feet away.

It looked like a mile.

Trembling violently, June dragged herself across the floor.

Jagged pieces of broken glass sliced into her knee, but she barely felt them over the agony tearing through her abdomen.

She reached up, blindly clawing at the nightstand until she knocked the phone onto the rug.

The bright screen pierced her eyes.

Her fingers were slick with sweat as she pressed the speed dial.

Number one.

Cole.

The phone rang once.

June squeezed her eyes shut, digging her nails into her palms until the skin broke.

Please answer.

Please.

It rang a second time.

Each second stretched endlessly.

Heavy.

Suffocating.

Then a click.

"What?"

Cole's voice came through the speaker.

It wasn't a greeting.

It was a wall of ice.

In the background, June heard the clinking of champagne glasses and the smooth jazz of a live band.

"Cole..."

June gasped.

"Help me... the baby..."

Before Cole could respond, a sweet female voice drifted through the receiver.

"Cole, who is it? We're going to be late for the red carpet."

Alycia.

June's stomach lurched.

The pain intensified, sending a wave of nausea through her body.

"June," Cole said impatiently, "if this is your pathetic attempt to stop me from attending the gala, it's a terrible strategy."

"No..."

June choked out.

A metallic taste filled her mouth.

Blood.

"I'm bleeding. Please."

"Stop acting," Cole snapped.

She could almost picture him adjusting his expensive cufflinks, annoyed by her existence.

"You are perfectly fine. We're walking on stage in two minutes."

"Do not call this number again tonight."

"Cole, wait—"

The line went dead.

The dial tone buzzed through the silent room.

It sounded like a death sentence.

June stared at the darkened screen.

The phone slipped from her weak grasp and landed on the rug.

A sudden warmth spread between her thighs.

Terrified, she looked down.

A dark pool of blood soaked into the intricate patterns of the Persian rug.

Blood.

Too much blood.

A primal panic seized her chest.

She was losing the baby.

With the last ounce of strength she had left, June grabbed the phone again and dialed 911.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Compton Manor," June whispered.

"Hemorrhaging. Pregnant. Please hurry."

The phone slipped from her hand.

Her head fell back against the floor.

Across the room, the massive television silently broadcast a live feed of the charity gala.

Through half-closed eyes, June saw Cole.

He looked breathtaking in his custom tuxedo.

He was smiling.

Smiling down at Alycia.

Alycia stood beside him in a stunning white gown, looking more like a bride than a guest.

Her arm was wrapped tightly around his.

Cole's eyes held a warmth and tenderness June had not seen in years.

The contrast was brutal.

He stood beneath the spotlight with another woman on his arm while his wife bled out alone on the bedroom floor.

The distant wail of ambulance sirens pierced the night.

Growing louder.

Closer.

Downstairs, the heavy oak doors burst open.

Footsteps thundered up the staircase.

Mrs. Lynch, the head housekeeper, appeared in the doorway.

She didn't gasp at June's pale face.

She didn't react to the blood.

Instead, her eyes immediately dropped to the floor.

"Good heavens," Mrs. Lynch muttered with disgust.

"You've ruined the antique rug."

The paramedics shoved past her.

Dropping their medical bags, they rushed to June's side.

"Ma'am? Can you hear me?" one of them shouted.

A penlight flashed into her eyes.

June couldn't answer.

The room was spinning.

They lifted her onto a stretcher.

The movement sent a fresh wave of agony through her pelvis.

A silent tear slid down her temple.

Inside the ambulance, fluorescent lights flickered overhead.

"Blood pressure is dropping!" a medic yelled.

"Eighty over forty! Suspected ruptured ectopic pregnancy! Step on it!"

The doors of the emergency room flew open.

The wheels of the stretcher rattled violently across the hospital floor.

Doctors and nurses swarmed around her.

Scissors sliced through her blood-soaked clothes.

"Where is the family?" a doctor demanded.

"Where is the husband? We need consent for emergency surgery!"

A nurse leaned closer.

"Mrs. Compton? Where is your husband?"

June forced her eyes open.

Her lips trembled.

"He..."

Her voice was barely audible.

"He won't come."

The doctor didn't hesitate.

"We're losing her. Get her to the OR now!"

The heavy operating room doors swung shut.

A mask was pressed over her face.

The sweet smell of anesthesia filled her lungs.

Her final conscious memory was the sound of Cole hanging up the phone.

Hours later, the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor pulled her back to consciousness.

June slowly opened her eyes.

The hospital room was dark.

Only the distant lights of New York City filtered through the blinds.

Her abdomen felt hollow.

A dull ache radiated from the surgical incision.

The room was empty.

No flowers.

No husband.

No one waiting beside her bed.

A nurse entered to check her IV.

The woman offered her a look of deep sympathy.

"Mrs. Compton," the nurse said softly, "we tried calling your emergency contact several times."

"Mr. Compton never answered."

June slowly turned her head toward the window.

The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and silver.

She didn't cry.

The tears were gone.

In their place was something colder.

Something permanent.

A solid block of ice settling inside her chest.

June closed her eyes.

The woman who loved Cole Compton had died on that operating table.