Audrey turned her head.
“Seraphina’s husband?”
“Yes.”
The contraction struck fully.
Audrey gripped the blanket.
The paramedic leaned over her.
“Stay with me. Slow breaths.”
But Audrey’s mind was no longer in the ambulance.
It was back in the ballroom, on Seraphina’s face.
Confusion.
Fear.
Or recognition?
Had Seraphina known who she was marrying?
Had the wedding been a celebration—or a business arrangement disguised as one?
The hospital entrance appeared through the rear windows.
The ambulance slowed.
The doors opened, and the night filled with voices.
Audrey was rushed beneath fluorescent lights and through a corridor where everything smelled clean, sharp, and unfamiliar.
A doctor met them near the labor unit.
“I’m Dr. Patel. Audrey, we’re going to take good care of you and your baby.”
Audrey wanted to believe her.
“What’s happening?”
“We need to examine you. Your labor is progressing, but at thirty-four weeks, we want to slow things if we safely can.”
“And if you can’t?”