Both of their stories were identical, like someone had just copied and pasted the details.
Even Ivy couldn’t dismiss it as mere coincidence anymore; a ripple of unease tugged at her thoughts.
Jamison had, in fact, just gotten off a call–from Micah.
After Emma was rushed to the hospital, the doctors determined there was no way to save the baby. For the sake of her own health, they recommended an immediate procedure.
But Emma was inconsolable. She clung to the doctor, sobbing, begging them to do something–anything–to save the pregnancy.
Micah didn’t want to lose the baby either, so he called Jamison, desperate for help. “Please, find the best OB–GYN you know. We have to save this baby!”
Jamison’s patience wore thin. “If the doctors say it’s over, what are you fighting for? You want to risk her life now?”
“We have to at least try,” Micah pleaded, his voice raw. “That’s a life we’re talking about!”
“A fetus that never drew breath isn’t a life,” Jamison replied, coldly rational.
Micah was stunned, his voice turning sharp with accusation. “How can you say something so heartless? I’m your nephew! That’s my child–we’re family!”
Guilt–tripping never worked on Jamison. “If you won’t listen, stop calling me. If you’re so capable, go save her yourself.”
He hung up, but it wasn’t long before his phone lit up again–this time, his sister Carla, and then his nearly eighty–year–old mother, both urging him to get to the hospital.
He could ignore his nephew, but he couldn’t ignore his aging mother.
So he dropped a quick message in the group chat: Something’s come up at the hospital, I have to go. You all carry on–I’m logging off for now.
Reading that, Ivy frowned. Doctors really had it rough, always on call.
Then again, not every doctor was so self–sacrificing.
Take Jamison, for instance. The day she’d been in that car accident, he’d already
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clocked out early, which was how he happened to spot her outside the hospital and give her a ride.
For the wealthy, work was just a way to pass the time–a hobby, almost. Nothing like the grind that most people faced, working endless hours and never truly off the clock.
After ending his call, Jamison drove straight to the hospital. He hadn’t even stepped into the emergency wing before Emma’s hysterical cries echoed down the hall.
He resisted the urge to turn and leave, but Rosetta spotted him and hurried over, grabbing his arm.
“Dr. Ludwig, thank goodness you’re here. Please, you have to help–Micah’s child needs saving,” she said, making it clear whose side she was on.
Jamison didn’t like being touched. He gently but firmly removed her hand, his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry, but I’m not an obstetrician. There’s nothing I can do.”
Micah hurried over, and Jamison motioned him aside, his tone stern and commanding. “Come with me.”
Seeing Jamison’s serious look, Micah didn’t dare dawdle and quickly followed.
Once outside the emergency wing, Micah tried to sound hopeful. “Did you find someone better? Another specialist?”
Jamison turned to face him, lips pressed in a thin line, irritation barely contained. “I spoke with the doctor handling the case on my way here. They already did an ultrasound–the pregnancy is over. There’s nothing to save. In fact, the bleeding isn’t stopping. If they don’t operate now, Emma’s at risk for serious hemorrhaging.”
His words were calm, almost detached–brutally logical.
Micah paled, panic flickering across his face. “So… so that’s it? We’re just going to lose the baby?”
The only reason Jamison bothered to show up was to put an end to their spectacle before it caused a scene. He had no intention of hunting down miracle doctors for a lost cause.
Once he’d made things clear, he turned to leave for his own department.
But Micah grabbed his arm. “Please, can you talk to Emma? She won’t listen to me.”
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Jamison’s patience wore thin, his words tinged with scorn. “She’s your partner. If she doesn’t listen to you, why should she listen to me?”
“Please-”
Before they could argue further, a nurse burst out from the ER doors. “It’s getting worse! The patient’s bleeding is out of control–she needs surgery right away!”
“What?” Micah spun to Jamison, lost. “What do we do?”
Jamison was fed up. He turned to the nurse, voice crisp with authority. “Prep for surgery immediately. Get the family to sign the consent forms. If they won’t cooperate, send them to another hospital.”
“Yes, Professor Ludwig.” Even if he didn’t run the ER, Jamison was a senior executive and a major stakeholder. His word was law.
Knowing his nephew was hopelessly indecisive, Jamison called his sister directly, laying out the risks in plain terms.
Carla wasted no time calling her son. “The baby’s gone–there’s nothing left to save! Get the surgery done at once. If Emma drags this out and something happens, you’ll be the one to blame!”
That snapped Micah out of it, and he hurried inside to talk to Emma.
But Emma couldn’t let go.
That baby was her trump card–her ticket to a future of luxury and security.
She erupted, grabbing whatever she could get her hands on and hurling it at Micah. “I know you don’t love me! You never wanted to marry me–you’re just waiting for the baby to be gone so you’re off the hook! You still want Ivy, don’t you? Micah, you bastard!”
The ER descended into chaos, with Emma’s tantrum leaving Micah flustered and the room a disaster.
Hearing the commotion from outside, Jamison immediately ordered security to have them removed–or transferred to another hospital if they refused to cooperate.
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