Chapter 90 90
Elliot’s POV
It’s been hours since I last left her side. After the initial evaluation, they moved her to the best room in the maternity ward—a private suite at the end of the hallway. Pale walls, a wide window letting in the gray afternoon light, and a sofa where some family member could have rested. I stayed by the bed from the moment they wheeled her in, walking beside the gurney while she breathed hard and clenched her teeth through another spasm.
When the door closed, the silence of the room contrasted sharply with the chaos of the ER. But for Katherine, nothing changed.
The pain continued.
I was beside her when the first strong contraction hit.
Her body tensed suddenly. Her fingers clamped around my hand with a strength I didn’t know she had. Her back arched against the mattress and a low moan escaped her throat—a sound that pierced me in a way I hadn’t expected.
“Kate… look at me,” I said, leaning over her. “Breathe with me.”
She shook her head, eyes squeezed shut.
“I can’t… Elliot… it hurts too much…”
The nurse came closer to check the monitor while I held her hand.
“Breathe deeply, Mrs. Ellis,” she said calmly. “The contractions are going to get more intense.”
Katherine let out a choked sob.
I had never seen anything like it.
I had never imagined labor could be so raw, so long, so brutal. Each contraction seemed to rip through her body like an electric shock that left her trembling. Her abdomen hardened under the gown, her breathing irregular, fast, desperate. Her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, small droplets running down her temples.
I took the cold towel the nurse left on the table and gently wiped her face.
“Listen to me,” I murmured near her ear. “You’re not alone. I’m here.”
She squeezed my hand harder.
Minutes turned into hours.
The contractions came and went like relentless waves. When one ended, Katherine collapsed against the pillow, completely drained, breathing through her mouth, eyes closed. Sometimes she tried to hold back the tears, but not always.
“I can’t do this anymore…” she whispered at one point, voice broken. “Elliot… I can’t…”
I leaned over her and took her face in both hands, forcing her to look at me.
“Yes, you can,” I said calmly. “Look at me. Breathe with me again.”
I inhaled deeply.
“One… two… three…”
She mimicked me through shudders.
“That’s it,” I continued. “Again.”
The next contraction came before she could fully catch her breath. Her body tensed and a scream tore from her throat—louder than before.
Her fingers dug into my hand.
“Elliot!”
“I’m here,” I answered immediately. “Squeeze as hard as you need.”
The nurse came back to check the fetal monitor. The rhythmic sound of the baby’s heartbeat filled the room.
“The baby is fine,” she said with a reassuring smile. “Heartbeat is strong.”
Katherine let her head fall to the side.
“I don’t want… I don’t want him to be born yet… there are still weeks left…”
“Look at me,” I said softly, brushing damp hair from her forehead. “The baby is ready. Your body knows it.”
She shook her head, crying.
“I’m scared…”
I slid my thumb across her cheek to wipe away a tear.
“I know.”
I leaned closer, close enough that only she could hear me.
“But you’re not going through this alone. I’m with you, Kate. I’m not leaving your side.”
Her fingers gripped my wrist.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Another contraction shook her before she could say more. This one was longer. More intense. Katherine screamed uncontrollably and her back arched off the bed.
I felt the crushing pressure of her hand on mine.
I didn’t move.
When the pain passed, her body trembled.
“You’re doing it perfectly,” I said quietly, leaning to kiss her damp forehead. “Listen… every contraction is one step closer to the end.”
She breathed hard.
“It hurts too much…”
“I know,” I replied. “But your body knows what to do. Trust it.”
The hours passed like that.
Contraction.
Breath.
Tears.
Brief rest.
Then again.
Doctors came and went. They checked monitors, took notes, spoke quietly among themselves. My entire world had shrunk to the bed where Katherine fought each wave of pain.
At one point she collapsed against the pillow, exhausted.
“I can’t keep going… Elliot… I can’t…”
I took her hand and lifted it slightly so she’d look at me.
“Listen to me carefully.” I waited until her eyes found mine. “You’re closer than you think.”
The door opened and the doctor returned with a nurse.
He quickly checked the monitor and then examined Katherine.
A few seconds of silence passed.
Finally he looked up.
“She’s at nine centimeters,” he announced. “It’s time. We’re going to prepare her to push.”
Katherine’s eyes snapped open in disbelief.
“Now…?”
The doctor nodded.
“Now.”
She turned her head toward me as another contraction began building in her belly. Her fingers searched urgently for mine, and when she found them she squeezed hard. I closed my hand around hers and leaned closer so my voice would cut clearly through the murmur of nurses and the constant beep of the monitor.
“Listen to me for a moment, Kate. Breathe with me. Don’t rush ahead of the contraction—let it build, take a deep breath, and when the moment comes, push with everything you have. Your body knows how to do this; you’ve done it before. You’re not alone in this, and I’m not moving from here.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I prepared for this moment.”
“B-But…”
“Shh. I knew I’d be here with you. This is my place, my beloved Kate.”
Kate opened her eyes—wet from effort and accumulated exhaustion—and nodded faintly. One of the nurses adjusted the bed position while another raised the side rails and positioned Kate’s legs in the stirrups. The doctor took his place at the foot of the bed with the calm of someone who had repeated this scene hundreds of times. I stayed at her shoulder, never letting go of her hand, leaning in so she could hear me clearly.
“When you feel it coming, don’t fight the pain. Ride it. Push downward, just like they tell you. I’ll count with you, okay? Look at me if you need to focus.”
The contraction arrived like a wave crashing against the shore. Kate clenched her teeth and her entire body tensed against the mattress. The deep, involuntary groan that escaped her throat was raw as she pushed with everything she had. I felt her hand clamp around mine with brutal force, but I didn’t move.
“That’s it, Kate, keep going. Push long—don’t stop yet. Good… good… hold it a little longer, you’re helping the baby come down.” When the spasm finally eased, her body collapsed against the pillow, gasping, chest rising and falling rapidly.
The doctor looked up from where he worked and nodded approvingly.
“Very good. The head is starting to show.”
Kate let out a short sob—more from exhaustion than fear—and closed her eyes while trying to catch her breath. I pressed my forehead to hers for an instant and spoke calmly.
“You’re doing exactly what you need to do. You’re not losing control, Kate. Every push is working. Listen to what the doctor says and keep going. We’re almost there.”
Another contraction began rising from her belly—stronger than the last. Kate drew in a deep breath, bracing herself before the pain peaked, and when it hit she pushed again with all the strength she had left. The scream that tore from her chest was long, wrenching, but this time it wasn’t defeat—it was pure effort. I felt the tremor of her body travel through her hand, but my voice stayed steady beside her ear.
“That’s it—don’t stop yet. Keep the pressure, Kate. Think about bringing the baby down, not the pain. You’ve almost got him—keep pushing, keep going.”
The doctor looked up again. “One more strong one. Just one more.”
Kate drew in a deep breath, as if gathering the very last of what she had left, and squeezed my hand until my knuckles cracked. I nodded, holding her gaze.
“Do it now. Give him everything, Kate. Push.”
She obeyed. Her back tensed against the bed, muscles contracting violently, and her final scream filled the room as the last effort tore through her body.
And then it came.
The cry.
A high, strong, vibrant cry that shattered the air in the room with a clarity that made everything else stop. The doctor lifted the baby with steady hands while the nurses moved quickly around him. Kate collapsed against the pillow, exhausted, crying uncontrollably as the doctor cleaned the child and cut the cord.
He was small, red, with dark tufts of hair plastered to his wet head. His tiny fists opened and closed as he cried with surprising strength for such a small body. They wrapped him in a white blanket, and seconds later placed him on Kate’s chest.
She wrapped her arms around him immediately.
Her arms encircled him in a trembling mix of relief. She kissed his damp little head over and over as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“My love… my love…” she murmured between sobs, voice broken with emotion.
I stayed watching them for a few seconds, unable to look away. The baby kept crying, moving his little fists against the blanket, seeking the warmth of his mother’s body. Kate cradled him against her chest, tears falling onto his tiny forehead as she kissed him again.
I moved slowly and sat on the edge of the bed. I rested a hand gently on Kate’s shoulder and watched the small face resting against her. The crying began to calm, turning into soft whimpers as the baby settled.
Kate lifted her eyes to me—still shining with tears—and let out a weak laugh between sobs. I looked at the child a few seconds more before speaking, voice low, almost disbelieving.
“Look at him… he’s already here.”
The baby breathed in small hitches against his mother’s chest.
And I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
I stayed beside her in silence for seconds that felt suspended outside time. Kate kept holding the baby to her chest, kissing his tiny head while tears ran down her cheeks. I rested a hand carefully on her shoulder—almost reverently—and felt my own breathing turn uneven. I lowered my gaze to hide it. I didn’t want anyone to notice that my eyes had filled with tears too. For hours I had stayed strong beside her, pretending her pain didn’t tear through me, telling myself I had to be strong for both of us. But now that the baby was here—alive, breathing against his mother—something inside me broke. I looked closer at the small wrinkled face, the dark tufts stuck to his head, and I knew with a certainty that needed no proof or words. I had always thought he was mine, even when no one had confirmed it, but now, seeing him there, seeing him move in Kate’s arms, there was no room for doubt. He was my son. I took a deep breath, trying to control the tremor running through my body. My heart pounded so hard I could barely believe it. I had a son. A son with Kate. And I had been there when he came into the world.
My legs trembled slightly, and for an absurd instant I feared they might give out. I couldn’t explain why—only that seeing the two of them together—the two people I loved most in the world—felt somehow unreal, like a dream too beautiful to be true. For a dark moment the image of Andrew crossed my mind—him approaching one day to claim what I already felt was mine. Rage rose as fast as the thought, but I shoved it back hard. This wasn’t the moment. I lowered my gaze and saw my own hands tremble faintly. I had to calm down before touching him. Before holding him. I had to erase any thought that could ruin this perfect instant; I couldn’t think about Andrew, because that would accelerate my plan to kill him and might ruin everything. Then I heard Kate’s soft voice.
“Are you okay?”
I looked up and smiled at her—a calm smile still carrying the shine of unshed tears.
“I’m fine,” I said gently. “I’m just trying to keep this moment exactly where it belongs… in the safest place in my heart.” I leaned a little closer to them and extended my hands carefully. “May I?”
Kate raised an eyebrow, still emotional, watching how I brought my hands toward the baby.
“Do you know how?”
I let out a small, low laugh, still looking at the child.
“I was born for this moment.”
I slid my hands under the small body wrapped in the blanket and lifted him carefully. Before cradling him, I held him in front of me for an instant, looking straight into the barely open eyes under the room’s soft light. He was tiny, fragile, but there was something in that face that pierced me in a way I couldn’t explain.
He’s mine.
He’s my son.
Then I brought him to my chest and cradled him with slow movements, never taking my eyes off him. The word slipped from my lips almost in a whisper—natural, inevitable.
“Caleb Martins.”