Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Ella
I saw that shadow again.
Third time this week. Every time I left the hospital, I could feel cold eyes tracking my back.
Whenever I pretended to adjust something and glanced behind me, I'd catch glimpses of men acting strange—a jogger in a hoodie suddenly changing direction, or a blue-collar guy in a beat-up pickup stubbing out his cigarette and rolling up his window.
They thought they were slick. But Rochester wasn't Manhattan.
No Fifth Avenue crowds to disappear into.
Those extra stares were obvious as searchlights in the dark.
I quickened my pace into the supermarket. Part of my daily routine. After nine PM, they marked down fresh food that hadn't sold. Some went for half off. I was a regular.
At checkout, my hands shook so badly I dropped coins on the conveyor belt. The cashier stopped scanning and stared at me with concern.
"You okay, honey?" she asked. "You look pale."
"I'm fine." I forced a stiff smile and shoved the change into my wallet.
I had to get home. From the supermarket to my studio apartment was just one alley between buildings—a shortcut that saved me two blocks.
The alley was narrow and dark, flanked by six-story walk-ups. The only light came from a flickering streetlamp in the middle. Every time I passed through here, my heart climbed into my throat.
I practically ran through it.
When I got back to my cheap studio, air finally moved through my lungs again.
I leaned against the door for a moment before reaching to lock it. After the landlord's old lock, I added my own. The room smelled of aged wood mixed with citrus shampoo. That familiar scent gradually slowed my racing heart.
My phone rang, sharp and sudden. I answered. Maya.
"Hey, you home?" Maya's voice was tense. "Did you see those people again today?"
"Yeah, but don't worry, Maya. Door's locked."
Maya coughed violently on the other end, her voice so weak it made my throat tight. I'd regretted telling her about this. But I was so scared—if something happened to me, at least she'd know.
"What if I get pepper spray? Or a taser?" This dump's security was garbage. I couldn't rely on prayer to stay alive.
"Listen, Ella!" Maya's tone sharpened. "Stay home during the day for the next few days. Don't go out unless you have to. My dialysis is stable. I don't need you worrying. Focus on your medical textbooks and prepare for the nursing exam in six months. That's what you should be doing."
The rebuttal stuck in my throat. She was right.
Passing the nursing boards wasn't just my lifelong dream. It was my only shot at financial independence.
With that license, my income would double. I could help Maya recover and support the baby in my belly.
"And from now on, we check in twice a day," Maya continued. "Eight AM, eight PM. If I don't answer, you call the cops. If you don't answer, I call them. Deal?"
"Deal." My throat tightened, eyes stinging. "Maya, thank you."
"Remember, your safety comes first in my book," her voice softened. "You're the person I love most in this world."
Tears threatened to spill. Maya had devoted almost everything to me since we were kids. If anyone in this world would love me unconditionally, it could only be her.
After hanging up, I collapsed on the couch, trying to steady my breathing. Then I felt it—a flutter in my lower abdomen.
I froze. Was that the baby moving?
I placed my hand gently on my slightly rounded belly, feeling nerves pulse beneath my palm.
This little life had once been my deepest fear. Now it was my greatest comfort. I had to take care of myself. Take care of it.
After dinner, I opened my laptop and logged into my online class, copying out boring drug dosage conversion formulas word by word.
I hadn't studied long when my stomach turned. I shoved the laptop aside and bolted to the bathroom, hunched over the toilet, retching violently. Everything I'd eaten came back up.
A minute later, I gripped the sink and stood. The woman in the mirror looked like a ghost. I barely recognized myself—the same woman who'd once worn couture at Manhattan's finest galas as Mrs. Rockefeller.
"Pull yourself together, Ella." I gave the mirror woman a pep talk. "Stop wanting things that were never yours to begin with."
When my body settled slightly, I forced myself back to the desk and kept studying nursing ethics and emergency procedures.
I pushed through until one or two AM, body exhausted to its limit, before finally lying down.
Though my body felt crushed by stones, my brain ran like an out-of-control engine, wide awake.
I stared at the water stain on the ceiling.
That shadow seemed to writhe in the darkness, gradually forming Lucas's face.
What was he doing now?
Thinking of him made my stomach sink.
On impulse, I pulled out my phone and checked my blocked call log.
Since he'd come to Manchester, not a single call from a Manhattan area code. Which meant after he left that last time, he hadn't contacted me again.
Was that my last chance?
I kept telling myself this fit Lucas's domineering personality, but I couldn't stop tossing and turning.
Had he moved past this failed marriage and returned to his bachelor life?
Where would he be now? Some private Manhattan club?
A high-end dinner? One thing was certain—he'd be surrounded by women.
Beautiful ones. Connected ones. All wanting to become Mrs. Rockefeller.
Even if they couldn't get the title, countless women would settle for a one-night stand.
Just like the playboy life he'd always known. He'd forget me soon enough.
I rolled over, burying my wet face in the pillow.
I tried to sleep my way out of these spiraling thoughts, but deep inside, something heavy lingered.
Then that familiar nausea jolted my body awake.
I rushed to the bathroom for another round of spinning, heaving torture.
This was worse than before. My mouth tasted of bitter bile.
When the torment finally stopped, I felt it—warm, sticky liquid sliding slowly down my inner thigh.
My breathing stopped completely. Trembling, I looked down and saw a large, shocking red stain spreading across my light pajama pants.
The world went silent in my ears.
Phone.
I needed the phone.
I struggled to stand, legs like noodles. I shuffled back to the bedroom and grabbed my phone from the nightstand.
Maya's number sat at the top of my contacts.
No. Can't call her. My fingers shook violently. Maya's body couldn't handle this kind of shock. If she knew something happened to me, she'd rush over no matter what. That would kill her.
I gritted my teeth and dialed 911.
Panicked as I was, I still managed to give the dispatcher my location and situation accurately. Then I used my nursing training to control myself—sat on the floor, back against the couch, legs propped awkwardly on the coffee table.
I took deep breaths, reassuring myself over and over: The baby will be okay. You'll be okay. Breathe. In. Out.
Blood kept flowing, soaking my nightgown, soaking the carpet.
Every second of waiting stretched endlessly, each breath bringing sharp pain from my abdomen. Like someone was tearing at my uterus with rusty pliers, over and over, merciless.
Tears spilled uncontrollably, blurring my vision. I sat there in a pool of blood, feeling it gradually cool from hot to cold. I was so cold. I needed a blanket. Needed someone to help me. But no one was there.
What if I died? What if the baby died? What would happen to Maya? Would losing me make her give up treatment completely? And Lucas? Would he shed a single tear for me?
No. Can't think about this. I bit my lip hard, tasting blood. I had to be strong. For Maya. For the baby. For myself.
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer.
My body felt submerged in water, everything muffled.
Until the door burst open and paramedics in uniforms rushed in, lifting me onto a stretcher with practiced efficiency, encouraging me constantly.
But I was barely conscious, just images shifting and moving.
Someone prying my eyelids open. A cold needle piercing my vein.
Just as I was losing consciousness, I heard a familiar voice, like a hammer slamming into my temple.
"Ella!"
My sister's voice. She was crying.
"Ella!"
The fog cleared. I snapped back. Damn. How did I end up at Maya's hospital?
No. I realized. Of course the ambulance brought me to the nearest ER. I'd rented two blocks away to be close to her.
The nurses here all knew me. Someone must have told her.
God. What do I do?
"Miss, you can't come in." A nurse blocked her. "This is a sterile area."
"That's my sister!" Maya struggled, voice hoarse. "Let me see her!"
I opened my mouth, trying to squeeze out words to comfort her. But I had no strength left to speak. The image of Maya locked outside the operating room was the last thing I remembered. Darkness rushed in like a tide, swallowing me whole.
When I opened my eyes again, it was the next morning.
Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting striped shadows on white sheets. I blinked, trying to focus. The baby! I suddenly remembered why I was here. How was my baby?
"Ella, you're awake?" A surprised male voice came from beside me. I turned to find Joe. Somehow, he'd been keeping watch in my room.
"Joe!" I grabbed his hand like a lifeline. "My baby—is it okay?"
"It's fine," Joe squeezed back gently, reassuring. "Some marginal placental bleeding, but you caught it in time. Stable now."
I exhaled in relief, but immediately my heart clenched: Maya's cries flooded back. I sat up abruptly. "Maya? How is she?"
"Lie down. Don't move." Joe pressed my shoulder. "Maya's situation is complicated."
My throat tightened. "What do you mean?"