Chapter 3 - The Four-Hour Surgery
St. Jude Medical Center was bathed in the harsh, flashing lights of police cruisers and private security SUVs when the ambulance pulled into the emergency bay.
Serena was rushed straight into Emergency Operating Room 3.
Harrison attempted to step into the surgical suite, his suit jacket soaked with rain and blood, but Dr. Thorne placed a firm hand against his chest.
"You can't come in here, Harrison," Dr. Thorne said sternly, his eyes filled with gravity. "You need to let me work. If I lose focus for five seconds, I lose both of them."
"Save them, Aris," Harrison said, his dark eyes burning with an unholy desperation. "Save them, or don't bother coming out of that room."
The heavy double doors sealed shut. The bright red light above the frame illuminated: SURGERY IN PROGRESS.
For four agonizing hours, Harrison stood in the sterile, white corridor of the surgical wing. He refused to sit. He refused to drink water. He stood motionless against the wall like a monument carved out of stone, his eyes fixed on the red light.
At 2:15 AM, the door clicked open.
Dr. Thorne stepped out, pulling off his surgical mask. His face was gray with exhaustion, his green scrubs stained with dark spots.
Harrison took two sharp steps forward. "Talk to me."
Dr. Thorne took a deep breath, looking straight into Harrison’s eyes. "The internal bleeding was massive. She suffered two fractured ribs, a severe pelvic contusion, and a sixty-percent placental abruption."
Harrison’s chest seized. "And the baby?"
"We managed to stop the abruption," Dr. Thorne revealed, a tired smile finally breaking across his face. "The fetal heartbeat dropped to forty beats per minute during the second hour, but Serena... she fought like a dragon, Harrison. She stabilized. The baby girl is still inside, breathing, and her heart rate is back to a strong 140 beats per minute."
Harrison let out a long, shuddering breath, sliding his hand down his face as tears finally broke through his iron composure. He leaned his shoulder against the wall, his shoulders shaking silently.
"Thank God..." Harrison whispered. "Thank God..."
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"However," Dr. Thorne added, his expression darkening, "she is not out of the woods. We have placed her in a medically induced coma for seventy-two hours to allow her uterus and ribs to heal without the stress of pain. During this time, she will be completely defenseless."
"She won't be defenseless," Harrison said, wiping his face, his tone shifting instantly back to pure, lethal authority. "Because I am going to stay in that room every second until she wakes up."
