chapter 176
Elena's POV:
"I don't know exactly," Scarlett gasped, her voice pitched high with panic.
"Some warehouse, industrial area. " A crash in the background cut her off, followed by a man's voice, low and threatening.
"Tell her what I want, or this gets messy."
My blood ran cold. I didn't recognize the male voice at all.
"Who is he?" I demanded, already pushing myself up from the hospital bed despite the protest of my heavy belly. "What does he want?"
"Five hundred thousand pounds," the man's voice came clearer now, as if he'd taken the phone. His accent was local, working-class, tinged with desperation rather than malice.
"Who put you up to this? Why are you doing this?" I continued.
"Cut the crap, I know that's pocket change to people like you."
"Then we have nothing to discuss," I said coldly, my finger hovering over the end call button.
"Wait! No—nobody put me up to this!" His voice cracked with panic. "I did this myself, alright? "
"But why?" I asked, genuinely confused. "We don't even know each other."
"I need the money. I saw you all at the hospital—her family, you and your husband when you came to visit. All of you dripping with money. So I... I waited. Got her alone today. "
"But then she told me that her family just left town, abandoned her completely. So I had to call you. She said you're her daughter."
My mind raced as the pieces fell into place.
He'd been at the hospital, watching us. Someone desperate enough to kidnap but amateur enough to have no real plan when his first option fell through. If he needed money this badly, someone in his family must be sick.
"Look," I said carefully, "whatever's going on, we can talk about this properly. But kidnapping—you know that's serious. You could go to prison for years."
"I don't care anymore," his voice trembled, raw with desperation. "I just need the money. If I don't get it, my daughter and I—we won't make it anyway. Eight PM is the deadline. No money, no hostage. Simple as that."
"Elena! Please! Help me!" Scarlett's scream pierced through the phone before the line went dead.
I stared at the silent device in my hand.
Despite the threats, I could tell he wasn't a hardened criminal—just a desperate man pushed too far. But I wasn't about to risk everything for Scarlett, not after all she'd done.
I was still staring at the phone, finger hovering over the emergency number, when the door opened, and Sebastian walked back in, papers in hand.
"What's wrong?" He immediately noticed my troubled expression, crossing to me in quick strides. "Elena?"
"That was Scarlett," I said quietly. "She's been kidnapped. The man wants five hundred thousand pounds by eight tonight or..." I trailed off, unable to finish.
His face darkened. "She actually dared to contact you? What are you planning to do?"
"Call the police." I met his eyes steadily. "It's the last thing I can do for her."
Sebastian studied me carefully, checking for any signs of distress, then nodded. "I'll have Marcus contact them discreetly."
I started to stand, needing the bathroom, but froze mid-motion.
A warm rush of fluid between my legs made my blood run cold.
"Sebastian," I whispered, my voice strangled.
He was still talking about police contacts when he glanced down, following my stricken gaze. The blood drained from his face.
"Your water," he breathed. "Elena, your water just—"
"I know," I managed, gripping his hand as the first real contraction hit, stealing my breath. "Oh God, I know."
For a moment, we just stared at each other—the phone call, the hostage situation, everything else forgotten in the face of this new, immediate reality. Then Sebastian exploded into motion, hitting the call button with one hand while supporting me with the other.
"We need help in here! Now! My wife—she's in labor!"
The room filled with medical personnel within seconds, their efficient movements a blur around my sudden, overwhelming awareness that this was happening.
Now. Our baby is coming now, a week early.
"Sir, we need to get her to delivery," a nurse was saying, already preparing to move my bed. "How far apart are the contractions?"
"I don't—that was the first—" I gasped as another one rolled through me, stronger than before. "Oh God."
Sebastian's face was white, his usual control shattered. "It's too early. She's only—we're not ready—"
"Thirty-five weeks is viable," Dr. Harrison appeared, already in scrubs. "We've been monitoring closely. The baby is good size. But we need to move now."
They were wheeling me toward the door, Sebastian keeping pace.
The delivery room doors loomed ahead, bright and sterile and terrifying.
Another contraction ripped through me, and I cried out, doubling over.
"I've got you," Sebastian murmured, his voice rough. "I'm here. I've got you."
"Sebastian." I gripped his hand through another wave of pain, forcing myself to focus.
"Be strong, love. Just be strong." Sebastian gripped my hand so tightly it hurt, his eyes wild as he turned to Dr. Harrison. "Whatever happens—save her. Do you understand? Save my wife first. Always her first—"
"Sebastian, get out," I gasped between contractions. "I need to focus. Please—just go."
The nurses exchanged glances before gently but firmly steering him toward the door. "Sir, we need to prep—"
"Elena!" He fought against them for a moment before I caught his eye and shook my head. The fight went out of him, and he allowed himself to be guided out, his face a mask of terror.
As the doors swung shut behind him, I turned to Dr. Harrison, who was already checking monitors and preparing equipment.
"Doctor," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "These two lives—they're in your hands now."
He met my gaze with calm professionalism. "We're going to take care of you, Mrs. Vane. Now let's bring the baby into the world."