Another week passed, and Cammy’s world continued to darken. The day Dylan left the country, without even a goodbye, sothing in her broke.
Her mind kept replaying that mont—the screaming, the flashing lights, the terrified look on her son’s face as Duncan dragged him away.
Since then, she had refused to eat. Her already fragile body was withering, her cheeks hollowing, eyes dull.
When Grace returned to the detention center for another visit, she barely recognized her client.
Cammy was pale, her skin clinging tightly to bone. Her prison uniform hung on her like it belonged to soone else.
The petition Grace had filed in hopes of securing a temporary release had just been rejected that morning.
"I’ll file another one," Grace had promised gently, trying to mask her concern. "This isn’t over."
Cammy just stared past her, empty. "He didn’t even let say goodbye," she whispered, almost to herself. "He didn’t let say goodbye..."
Grace tried to touch her hand, but Cammy pulled back. It was like her spirit had left her body, as though all that was left of her was a shell with nothing left to lose.
Later that day, Cammy was assigned to a cleaning shift in the bathroom with three other inmates.
The won had grown sympathetic to her over the past weeks, especially after hearing her story.
One, a sharp-tongued woman with a fierce gaze nad Trixie, leaned over while scrubbing tiles and said, "You should’ve slit that bastard Duncan’s throat before you ran with the kid. At least then it would’ve been worth the ti you’re doing."
Another chid in, "Seriously. You don’t belong here with us. You were just trying to protect your son. That’s what any mother would do. He didn’t really have to send you to jail, it was his choice. Didn’t even consider that you are pregnant!"
Cammy gave a faint smile. It was the only kindness she’d felt in days, even if it ca marked with bloodthirst. But before she could respond, a sharp pain stabbed through her abdon. Her face twisted. She clutched her belly.
"Oh God..." she whispered, stumbling backward. The pain was searing, and then ca the warm wetness running down her legs.
"Cammy, you’re bleeding!" soone shouted.
She looked down and saw blood staining her pants, dark red and growing fast.
"My baby!" she cried out in horror, her voice shaking the bathroom walls. Her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the floor.
The inmates panicked but rallied quickly, screaming for help.
Two guards rushed in, wide-eyed at the sight of the blood pooling beneath her. Without hesitation, they lifted her and rushed her to the facility’s clinic.
The doctor there barely glanced at her before barking orders for imdiate ergency transport.
As Cammy was strapped into the stretcher and wheeled out of the facility, Grace had just stepped out of the building, after eting another client of hers. She froze at the sight—Cammy unconscious, pale, her pants soaked in blood.
"What happened?! I am her lawyer." Grace ran to the ambulance.
"She’s bleeding badly. Possible miscarriage," a dic said hurriedly. "We’re taking her to Dalton General."
"I’ll follow," Grace said, already sprinting to her car.
After helping get Cammy admitted and answering a barrage of questions from the hospital staff, Grace found a quiet corner of the waiting area and pulled out her phone. Her hands shook as she dialed.
First, she called Monica who was miles away in Arlon City.
Then, Richard.
"Cammy’s in the hospital," she told him. "Possible miscarriage. They’re doing everything they can."
Richard didn’t ask any questions. "Which hospital?"
"Dalton General."
"I’m closest. I’ll be there in ten."
When Richard arrived, Grace stood from her chair, weary.
"I need to leave for a bit," she said. "I’m eting Ric at the detention center. He has papers to sign, and... I need to tell him what happened."
Richard nodded, jaw clenched. "Go. I’ve got her."
At the n’s detention center, Ric Rossi sat in the visitor’s room, arms chained to the table. When Grace entered, he imdiately stood as far as his restraints would allow, eyes wild.
"Grace, what’s wrong? You said it was urgent."
Grace sat slowly, her expression grim. "It’s Cammy. She’s in the hospital. She collapsed earlier. She was bleeding badly."
Ric’s eyes filled instantly. "No... no, please... the baby?"
"They don’t know yet. It’s too early to tell."
Ric’s fists clenched so hard the chain rattled. His voice cracked. "I should’ve been there. This is all my fault."
"Ric, don’t do that to yourself."
"I let her down. I promised to protect her. And now..." He choked, head dropping. "Please, Grace. There’s sothing I need to do. I need to talk to Greg."
Grace blinked, surprised. "Greg?"
"Yes. Please. Tell him I need to see him. I don’t care if he hates . I need to say sothing important. Maybe... maybe he can still do sothing for Cammy. Please."
Grace hesitated. "I’ll tell him, Ric. But I can’t promise he’ll co."
"Just try," Ric whispered, tears falling freely now. "That’s all I’m asking."
Grace nodded solemnly and opened the folder she was carrying. "Ric, I need your signature on these docunts. It’s a supplental affidavit for the ergency motion I’m filing again—based on Cammy’s current dical condition. If we can argue humanitarian grounds, we might have a better chance."
Ric wiped the tears from his face and straightened his back, trying to keep his composure. His hands were shaking slightly as he took the pen and began signing.
"I can’t lose her, Grace," he whispered. "Not her, not the baby. I was too late once. I can’t be too late again."
Grace placed a hand on his shoulder for a brief mont, her voice gentle but firm. "I’m doing everything I can, Ric. But I need you to stay strong and calm in here. The court will use everything against you if you appear unstable."
Ric nodded and handed the papers back. "Thank you... and Grace, please—tell Greg. I need to speak to him. There’s sothing I have to say... sothing only he can hear from ."
Grace studied his face, weighing the desperation in his eyes. She gave a single, slow nod. "I’ll tell him. But I can’t promise he’ll co."
"I understand. Just... try, please..." Ric said softly, before the guard led him away.
*********
Outside the jail, Grace got into her car and sat in silence for a few monts, gathering her thoughts. Then she picked up her phone and dialed Greg’s number. It rang three tis before he answered.
[Grace,] Greg said flatly. [What is it now?]
She took a breath, steadying her voice. "Ric asked for you. He wants to see you. He said it’s important. Sothing he needs to say—he was very serious."
There was a long pause on the line. Then Greg’s voice returned, distant and guarded. [I told you before. I don’t want to see Cammy. I don’t want to get involved.]
"It’s not about Cammy this ti," Grace said, trying not to sound like she was begging. "It’s Ric. And I know you still care, Greg. You’ve always cared, whether you admit it or not."
[I’ve done more than enough,] Greg said coldly, but Grace could hear the hesitation slipping into his voice.
"She might lose the baby, Greg," Grace continued gently. "Cammy collapsed in jail. She was bleeding heavily. They rushed her to the hospital. Ric doesn’t even know if the child is still alive—your child.
And he’s locked in there, helpless. Whatever this is between you and him... maybe it’s ti to put it down. Just talk to him. For the baby’s sake."
Another pause. Greg exhaled slowly. [Which jail? I’ll book a flight tonight.]
Grace’s shoulders relaxed, relief flowing through her voice. "Dalton Detention Center. I’ll call ahead to arrange the visit. Can you co tomorrow?"
[Yes,] Greg said quietly. [I’ll be there first thing in the morning.]
"Thank you, Greg. You might not realize it now, but this... this could change everything."
Greg didn’t answer. The line went dead.
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