chapter 184
Elena's POV:
I was basking in the afternoon sun on the terrace when Alfred appeared before me, his usually composed expression troubled, lips moving as if struggling to find words.
My instincts sharpened immediately. "What is it, Alfred?"
He fidgeted with his hands, avoiding my gaze.
"Lady Elena, I... that is to say..." He cleared his throat. "Mrs. Cross has gone into labor. The Cross household is... rather chaotic at present."
My heart lurched. "Luna's in labor?" I calculated quickly—she was about a month behind me in her pregnancy. It seemed about right timing-wise. "Is she having complications?"
Alfred's hesitation spoke volumes. "It appears there may be... difficulties, my lady."
I was already reaching for my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I dialed Luna's number. It went straight to voicemail. Michael's did the same.
"Alfred, do you have the Cross family butler's number? I need the hospital information."
Within minutes, I had the address and was on my way, my own body protesting the sudden movement after weeks of careful recovery.
But Luna had been there for me during those long months of pregnancy. I couldn't abandon her now.
The hospital corridors seemed endless, my heels clicking against the polished floor as I searched for the surgical wing.
I found Martha—Luna's longtime nanny—pacing outside the operating room, her gray hair escaping from its usually neat bun, tears streaming down her weathered face.
"Martha!" I hurried over, grasping her trembling hands. "How long has she been in there?"
"Three hours, Lady Elena. Three hours." Martha's voice cracked. "They won't tell us anything. Just kept saying complications, severe complications..."
Through the small window in the operating room door, I could see the controlled chaos within—medical staff moving with urgent precision, machines beeping, and somewhere in that sterile room, my friend fighting for her life.
Michael stood rigid against the wall, his usually immaculate appearance in complete disarray.
His tie hung loose, his hair wild from running his hands through it repeatedly. When he saw me, something flickered across his face—surprise, perhaps, or gratitude.
"Elena." His voice was hoarse, as if he'd been screaming. "You didn't need to come."
"Of course I did." I moved closer, noting how his hands shook despite his attempts to appear composed. "What happened? Everything was fine at her last checkup..."
"They're still working on her," he said, his voice hollow. "They won't tell us exactly what's wrong. Just keep saying they're doing everything they can..."
"But what happened?" I pressed gently. "Was everything normal this morning?"
Martha let out a broken sob. "She was being picky about her food this morning. Mr. Cross kept insisting she eat more vegetables, said it was important for the baby..." Her voice cracked. "Such a small thing to argue about, and now..."
"If I'd known..." Michael's voice was raw with regret. "I wouldn't have argued with her. None of it matters—the vegetables, the proper diet—she's what matters. She's always been what matters..."
I stood there, helpless, not knowing how to comfort him.
"Mr. Cross?" A doctor in surgical scrubs appeared in the doorway. We all turned as one, the air suddenly electric with desperate hope and paralyzing fear.
"Your wife has suffered an amniotic fluid embolism," the doctor said without preamble. "We need to bring in specialists immediately. I won't sugarcoat this—it's one of the most serious complications we can face. The survival rate is..."
He paused, clearly struggling with how to deliver such devastating news. "Less than twenty percent in severe cases."
The words hit like a physical blow.
Michael's legs gave out, and he dropped to his knees right there in the corridor, his hands shaking so violently he could barely hold his phone.
I hadn't expected it to be this serious. My hands trembled as I fumbled for my phone, Sebastian's number already on speed dial.
"Sebastian," I said the moment he answered, my voice pitched high with panic. "Luna's condition—it's amniotic fluid embolism. The survival rate... they said less than twenty percent. Do you have any medical resources? Anyone who could—"
"Elena, breathe," his voice cut through my panic, steady and commanding. "I'm already making calls. The best obstetric specialists in the country will be there. Just stay calm."
I ended the call with shaking hands, unable to sit still, pacing the small waiting area like a caged animal.
Michael seemed to have snapped back to reality as well, pulling himself up from the floor. He was on his phone now too, his voice hoarse but determined as he barked orders, mobilizing every connection he had.
Within minutes, I saw a team of medical professionals rushing past us toward the operating room—specialists that either Sebastian or Michael had summoned, their faces set with grim determination as they disappeared behind those terrifying doors.
When Sebastian arrived shortly after, striding down the corridor with that familiar purposeful gait, something in my chest finally loosened.
The moment our eyes met, I felt myself breathe properly for the first time since hearing the diagnosis. He crossed to me immediately, and I all but collapsed into his arms, drawing strength from his solid presence.
"She'll be alright," he murmured against my hair, though we both knew he couldn't promise that.
The hours crawled by.
Day faded into night, and gradually more people arrived—business associates, distant relatives, others from their social circle. The waiting area became crowded with whispered conversations and nervous energy.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the operating room lights went dark. A exhausted-looking surgeon emerged, pulling off his surgical cap. "Mother and baby are stable," he announced wearily. "Both will need careful monitoring, but they made it through."
The collective sigh of relief was audible. My legs nearly gave out from the sudden release of tension.
Sebastian steadied me with an arm around my waist. "Come," he said gently. "Evander's at home waiting for us. There are enough people here now."
I watched as they wheeled Luna out, immediately surrounded by medical staff and family members.
Michael hovered anxiously, Martha wept with joy, and various others pressed close. There didn't seem to be a place for me in that crowd anymore.
I nodded, suddenly exhausted, and let Sebastian guide me home.
The moment we stepped through the door, Evander's cries filled the air, as if he'd sensed his mother's return.
All thoughts of the hospital fled as I rushed toward the sound of my son.