The nausea spikes. I swallow hard. My body is cold and hot at the same time. The bracelet feels too heavy. I peel it loose before I drop it. Alex catches it and shoves it into the cup holder.
“Breathe,” he says. “In. Out.” He’s driving again before I realize we’ve moved, one hand on the wheel, the other steady at my upper back. The alley spits us out into the short lane to the ER. A guard starts to wave us off, then recognizes the SUV and decides differently.
The world tilts. The engine hum dims. Doors flash and lights move, voices shouting in the distance. I hold onto two names: Clara and Damien.
“Stay with me,” Alex says again.
My eyes close.
CHAPTER 25
CASSANDRA
Winter light leaks through a frosted pane. A heart monitor keeps time. The IV pump ticks like a metronome.
I do a body check. Bandage at my forearm is clean and rewrapped, tugging a little when I flex. BP cuff loosening with a sigh. Pulse-ox on my fingertip. Mouth dry.
My first thought is Clara. Second, Damien. Third, what the hell just happened?
Two attacks in two days.
A nurse slips in, calm and competent, with the kind of presence that relaxes you right away.
“Good morning,” she says, checking the screens with a quick glance. “And Merry Christmas. You came in with nausea and dizziness. Borderline low blood pressure. Likely a mix of an adrenaline crash, mild dehydration, and a pain response from that arm.”
She checks my temp, notes the number. “Vitals look good. Fluids are running. Labs have been sent. Try sitting up slowly.”
I do as she asks. The room spins a little, then settles.
“How do you feel?”
“Not bad.”
She adjusts my pillows. “Doctor will be in in a minute.”
As promised, he strolls in with a tablet under one arm. He confirms my name and birth date, asks me to rate the ache in my arm, and listens to my lungs and heart.
“Strong and clear,” he says, which feels like a compliment I’ll gladly take.
“Your labs came back.” A pause I don’t like.
“What is it?”
The doctor sits at eye level, hands relaxed. “You’re pregnant,” he says.
“What?”
“Your blood test is positive for HCG,” he says. “Based on the level, you’re likely about three weeks post-conception—very early.”
A stunnedohsettles on the tip of my tongue. Relief and terror race each other down my spine and tie in a knot somewhere under my ribs.
“By standard counting, that’s about five weeks pregnant. Too early to see much on ultrasound, but enough to know.”
“You’re sure?” It comes out small. I hate small, but here we are.
“Blood tests at this level are very reliable,” he says. “We’ll confirm with a repeat in forty-eight to seventy-two hours and schedule an ultrasound in about a week.”
A week feels like forever.
