"No," Greg said sharply, his voice slicing through the panic in the room. "We’re not waiting for the ambulance."
Without another word, he stord forward, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. He dropped to his knees beside Cammy’s limp form, cradling her in his arms with a desperate tenderness that betrayed the chaos in his soul.
He lifted her carefully but urgently, holding her close against his chest as if willing his strength into her fading body.
"Open the damn door!" he barked.
Ric, already moving, yanked the front door open and slamd the elevator button repeatedly, his eyes flicking back and forth between Cammy’s pale face and the glowing numbers on the panel. "Co on, co on..."
"Stay here. Watch over Dylan and Peter," Monica commanded the nanny and the caregiver in a tight, urgent voice. She was grabbing her handbag from the console table when a small voice tugged at her spine.
"Grandma?"
Monica turned sharply to find Dylan standing a few feet away, trembling like a leaf in the wind. His wide eyes shimred with tears he was trying so hard not to let fall.
"Oh, my sweet boy..." she breathed, rushing to kneel in front of him. "Listen to , okay? Mommy’s just not feeling well. Grandpa is right here with you. I promise, we’re going to take care of her, and I will call you the mont we know more."
"Is she gonna be okay?" Dylan asked, his voice cracking.
Monica swallowed the sob rising in her throat. She forced a smile, brushing his cheek. "She’s going to be okay. She has the strongest heart I know."
A single tear slipped from Dylan’s eye before he wiped it away like a soldier steeling himself for battle. He nodded bravely.
Monica kissed his forehead and pulled him into a tight embrace, whispering one last reassurance before she turned and ran—her heels clicking hard against the marble floor as she caught up with Ric and Greg, who had just entered the elevator.
Inside, Greg’s arms tightened protectively around Cammy, whose head rested against his shoulder, still unconscious. His jaw was clenched so hard it ached, his mind screaming with every possible worst-case scenario.
He didn’t know what was happening.
But he knew one thing for certain—he was not letting her go.
Not now.
Not ever.
They sped through the streets of Arlon in Ric’s car, the tires screeching slightly as he pulled up to the ergency bay of Arlon dical Center.
Greg jumped out before the engine had even stopped and carried Cammy straight through the automatic doors.
"We need a stretcher!" a nurse shouted, rushing toward them with a gurney.
Ric and Monica followed closely behind, their hearts racing as Cammy was swiftly wheeled into the ergency room.
The mont they passed through the white curtains, a familiar voice broke through the chaos.
"She’s the one from this morning, right?" the resident doctor asked, recognizing Cammy instantly as she looked at Ric.
"Yes, she is," Ric answered curtly, trying to keep his frustration in check.
The doctor frowned and imdiately began checking Cammy’s vitals. "I told her she needed to undergo more tests. She was weak, unstable—her blood pressure was low, and her heartbeat irregular. But she was stubborn and walked out the mont she ca to."
"She was here this morning?" Monica asked, her eyes widening. "Why didn’t you tell , Ric?"
Ric exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, guilt flashing in his eyes. "Monica, you know how your daughter is—you can’t stop her once she’s made up her mind. She woke up, insisted she was fine, and said she just wanted to go ho. I didn’t want to cause a scene in front of everyone..."
Greg stepped closer, his fists clenching. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded. "Why was she here in the first place? What happened to her?"
Before Ric could respond, the doctor interjected, voice firm and professional. "She was brought in unconscious early this morning. She was extrely pale, her blood pressure was low.
We were concerned it could be anemia or sothing else. Her heart rate was elevated and erratic. We strongly recomnded further tests, including a blood panel, but she refused. She said... she already knew what was happening to her."
Greg’s face paled. "How co she was taken unconscious?" he turned to Ric, voice rising. "Why was she with you? Is that why she’s been ignoring my ssages—because she was with you?"
Ric t Greg’s accusing stare with a heavy breath. He glanced briefly at Monica, then looked back at Greg, his tone asured but sharp. "This isn’t what you think it is. So before you blow up, maybe try listening."
Greg’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
"I was already here at the hospital for the Children’s Month event. Cammy arrived separately—she was here to pick up so test results. I offered to accompany her because she looked... worried.
We went to a laboratory for the results, and when she checked the results... she collapsed. Out of nowhere. I had no idea what was happening either—I just reacted."
Greg ran a hand through his hair, tension coiling around every muscle in his body.
"And you didn’t think I deserved to know she was in the hospital? That she fainted?" Monica asked in irritation.
"I didn’t want to betray her trust," Ric said, voice hardening. "She asked not to tell anyone until she was ready. She was trying to keep it together—for Dylan, for her family. And frankly? I was trying to respect that."
Greg took a shaky breath, turning to look through the glass at Cammy’s still form on the bed. "Goddammit," he whispered, his voice breaking.
Monica stepped forward, her hands shaking as she reached for the curtain. "We just need to make sure she’s okay. Everything else can wait."
But none of them could shake the haunting echo of the doctor’s words.
"She said she already knows what’s happening to her..."
And none of them were ready for what that truth might be.
"Who among you is the imdiate family of the patient?" the resident doctor asked, her gaze flicking between Ric and Greg. "Is one of you her husband?"
Greg stiffened, about to speak, but Monica stepped forward first, her voice composed but tired. "Her husband is in Dalton City. I’m her mother."
"Good. Since the patient is currently unconscious, I’ll need your consent to run a few tests," the doctor explained. "We’ll start with a blood panel, and based on the results, we’ll determine if more tests are needed."
"Do whatever you have to do," Monica said, her voice trembling just slightly. "Bring the papers, I’ll sign them."
The doctor gave a small nod and signaled the nurse, who returned swiftly with a clipboard of forms. Just as Monica reached for the pen, a quiet voice cut through the air like a thunderclap.
"There’s no need... I already know why I fainted."
Everyone froze. All eyes turned to the hospital bed, where Cammy—pale and fragile—was slowly pushing herself up, her gaze fixed on the IV in her hand. Unlike earlier, she didn’t attempt to remove it.
"Cammy," Monica gasped, rushing to her side. Greg took a step forward, too, but the words that followed stole the breath from the room.
"What do you an ’no need’? You fainted twice today," Greg barked, his voice tight with anger and worry. "Twice, Cammy! This isn’t sothing you can just brush off—"
Cammy ignored him, turning to the doctor instead. "Doctor, please... just prescribe sothing for anemia. Maybe folic acid, too. Enough for three days. I’ll see my doctor once I get back to Dalton."
As she spoke, her hands drifted down to her stomach, resting there with a gentle tenderness. A faint smile tugged at her lips, though her eyes shimred with unspoken pain.
The doctor froze for a second, eyes widening in realization. Her features softened into a knowing smile. "Ah... I see. Of course. I’ll get those prescriptions ready." She turned to leave, giving Cammy a respectful nod before heading to the nurse’s station.
Greg, Ric, and Monica stood in stunned silence, the air thick with unspoken tension. A thousand questions filled the space between them.
Greg stepped closer, a storm brewing behind his eyes. "Cammy, don’t do this. Don’t be reckless. You need lab work, a proper checkup, not just—"
"I’m pregnant."
The words dropped like a bomb.
Cammy’s voice was calm. Unshaken. But her eyes never t his.
"It’s yours, Greg... but you can’t be the father."
The world seed to stop. Greg’s breath caught in his throat, his mind reeling. His hands dropped to his sides, fingers twitching as if reaching for answers he didn’t have.
Ric’s eyes widened, and Monica covered her mouth with trembling fingers.
Greg took a shaky step back, as if her words had physically hit him. "What... what the hell are you talking about? It’s mine, so why can’t I be the father?" he whispered.
But Cammy simply closed her eyes, her hand still gently resting over the life blooming inside her... and the walls she had so carefully built around herself.
**********
Thank you for the gift, DaoistC6cpj4!
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