Chapter 197: The Crazy Caitlin

Chapter 197: The Crazy Caitlin

Caitlin had completely snapped. She was swinging that knife like a maniac—slashing, stabbing, just going absolutely berserk while spewing the vilest string of curses you could imagine. Her eyes were pure poison, like she wanted to kill Emily with her stare alone.

Emily dodged and weaved, desperately looking for any opening to get the hell out of there.

She knew she couldn't keep this up forever. Sooner or later, she'd run out of steam.

Then Caitlin lunged forward again, putting everything into the thrust. Her whole body tilted forward—and that's when Emily saw her shot. She shot out her hand, grabbed Caitlin's wrist dead-on, then twisted it back with everything she had!

Caitlin let out a shriek as pain shot through her wrist. The knife clattered to the pavement.

Emily immediately let go and backed up several steps, keeping her distance while watching Caitlin like a hawk. She fumbled for her phone, wanting to call Michael.

That's when she heard rapid footsteps and Michael's panicked voice: "Emily! Emily, where are you?"

Michael!

He picked up speed, and, from down the block, spotted two figures struggling in the corner—one of them was definitely Emily!

His heart nearly stopped. Without thinking twice, he broke into a full sprint.

"Emily!" Seeing her in one piece, he felt a wave of relief—but then he spotted the knife on the ground, and Caitlin's crazed look, and his whole body tensed up again.

When Caitlin saw Michael, the hatred in her eyes went nuclear. She scrambled for the knife, screeching: "Michael! Why the hell are you helping her? She's a homewrecker! She destroyed us! I'm gonna kill her!"

As she bent over, Michael swiftly kicked the knife, sending it skidding across the floor for several meters until it lodged itself in a gap.

Then he moved fast—stepped in and slammed the thrashing Caitlin face-down against a car hood, twisting her arm behind her back!

"Let me go! Michael, let me go!"

Even pinned down, Caitlin kept writhing and fighting, spewing a stream of obscenities. "You blind idiot! You're gonna regret this!"

Michael didn't even acknowledge her. Didn't even look at her.

His entire focus was on Emily. He immediately turned to her, eyes full of fear and concern: "Emily, are you okay? Are you hurt? Does anything hurt?"

Emily shook her head. Her heart was still pounding, and she was breathing hard, but she tried to keep it together: "I'm fine. She didn't get me—just hit me with pepper spray earlier."

She lifted her arm to show Michael the torn sleeve. "Just scraped the skin here a little. It's nothing."

Only then did Michael relax a bit, though his expression turned ice-cold.

He pulled out his phone and dialed 911.

After hanging up, he called Tobias: "Get me the best lawyer, now. I want this psycho to face the maximum legal consequences. I don't care what it costs—she needs to pay for what she did!"

Soon, the cops showed up and hauled the still-cursing, thrashing Caitlin away.

Watching Caitlin get loaded into the squad car, Emily felt zero sympathy—just relief that this nightmare was finally over.

What was waiting for Caitlin now was the full weight of the law. She'd brought this on herself.

Michael looked at Emily, his eyes full of guilt.

"This is on me. I knew Caitlin had it out for you. I knew that after what went down with Lonnie, there'd be other people gunning for you. But I still let my guard down.

I'm never letting you out of my sight again. Wherever you go, I'm going with you."

Emily leaned into him. Yeah, she'd been scared out of her mind and was still a little shaky, but mostly she felt warmed by how much he cared.

She hugged him back gently, patting his back: "I'm really okay, Michael. Look at me—I'm fine, right? Besides, I took her down myself. You should be proud of me."

She tried to ease his worry with a light tone, forcing a small smile.

Michael looked at that forced smile, and it just made his heart ache more.

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his voice soft but firm: "My Emily is the strongest. But don't you ever take risks like that again. Your safety and the baby's—that's all that matters."

Emily nodded and nestled into his arms, feeling his warmth and heartbeat as her anxiety slowly melted away.

But that evening, after Emily had showered and was getting ready for bed, she suddenly felt this pulling, aching sensation low in her belly.

It wasn't terrible, but it felt like a needle pricking her heart—instantly draining all the color from her face.

Instinctively, she clutched her stomach. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, and her fingers went white from gripping so hard.

"What's wrong? Emily?"

Michael had been keeping a close eye on her. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, fluffing her pillow,s when he noticed her pale face and how rigid she'd gone. Immediately sensing something was off, he rushed over and steadied her, his voice tight with alarm.

"Where does it hurt? What's going on?"

"My stomach... it hurts a little..."

Emily's voice carried a hint of barely concealed panic. "It's that pulling feeling, like... like last time."

Last time—right after she'd gotten pregnant—she'd had a threatened miscarriage with that same sensation.

Michael's face went white as a sheet. Without missing a beat, he scooped her up and headed straight for the door, shouting urgently.

"Get the head of OB at Harmony Hospital on the phone—tell them to meet us there! Tell them we're on our way!"

His arms held Emily firmly but carefully, terrified that any wrong move might hurt her or the baby.

"Don't be scared, Emily. We're going to the hospital right now! Everything's gonna be fine, it has to be!"

Michael looked down at her, eyes full of worry, but he forced out a reassuring smile.

"The baby's strong, and you're strong. We're gonna be okay."

Emily curled into his arms, nodding and gripping his collar tight, burying her face in his chest, drawing strength from his warmth as she tried to calm down.

She prayed silently: Baby, please be okay. Please come into this world healthy and safe.

The car tore through the streets, blowing through several red lights.

Michael held Emily's hand tightly, talking to her nonstop to keep her distracted and ease her tension.

Emily's pain came in waves—not super intense, but that pulling sensation wouldn't quit, keeping her on edge.

When they got to the hospital, Waverly and the medical team, already tipped off, were waiting at the entrance with a wheelchair.

Michael carefully settled Emily into the chair and followed the staff as they rushed into the ER.

"Get an ultrasound and fetal monitor going, stat!" Waverly ordered the nurses while pushing the wheelchair. "Prep the anti-miscarriage meds—have them ready!"

A flurry of tests kicked off immediately. Michael never let go of Emily's hand, staying glued to her side every second.

His jaw was clenched tight, face pale, eyes locked on the doctors and equipment like he was waiting for a jury verdict.

Especially during the ultrasound—he stared at that screen as his life depended on it, trying to read something, anything, from Waverly's expression and those blurry images. His heart was in his throat, barely breathing.

Emily lay on the exam table, staring up at the ceiling lights, her mind racing with worry.

She could feel the baby move slightly inside her, like it was trying to comfort her—or maybe responding to her fear.