Chapter 3
The monitor kept beeping.
I stared at the screen.
I didn't understand the numbers.
But I understood the nurse's face.
She was worried.
And that frightened me more than anything.
"Is my baby okay?"
The doctor looked toward me.
"Nia, we're watching her closely."
Marcus stood beside the bed.
His hand wrapped around mine.
I could feel him trembling.
I'd never seen him like that.
My husband was the kind of man who stayed calm when everything went wrong.
He'd built his construction company from nothing.
He handled angry clients.
Difficult employees.
Financial problems.
But now he was looking at a hospital monitor as though he could force it to give him a better answer.
The doctor adjusted the equipment.
She asked me to change positions.
The nurse checked my blood pressure again.
Then they spoke quietly.
I couldn't hear everything.
Only pieces.
"Persistent hypertension."
"Laboratory results."
"Fetal tracing."
I started crying.
"Please tell me what's happening."
The doctor turned toward me.
Her expression softened.
"Nia, your blood pressure is dangerously elevated, and your baby's heart rate has shown changes that require close attention."
My chest tightened.
"Is she dying?"
The doctor shook her head.
"We're not saying that. But we need to act carefully and quickly."
Marcus leaned closer.
"Whatever you need to do, explain it to us."
She nodded.
"We're evaluating the safest timing and method of delivery."
I stared at her.
"But I'm only thirty-four weeks."
"Babies born at this stage often do well with appropriate care, though some need support after birth."
I looked at Marcus.
His eyes filled.
I whispered, "I'm sorry."
He frowned.
"For what?"
"For not telling you sooner."
He shook his head.
"Baby, no."
I swallowed.
"I thought I could handle everything."
Marcus leaned down.
He pressed his forehead against mine.
"You don't have to handle everything alone."
I started crying harder.
He held my face gently.
"Do you hear me?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
"You're my wife. You're my partner. You're not supposed to prove your worth by suffering."
I closed my eyes.
Those words felt like something I'd been waiting months to hear.
Because living with Evelyn had slowly changed me.
At first, she'd been welcoming.
She brought meals.
Helped decorate the nursery.
Bought little pink dresses.
She called me her daughter.
But after we moved into the new house, everything changed.
She began arriving without calling.
Criticizing my cooking.
Rearranging my kitchen.
Telling me Marcus preferred things a certain way.
When I tried to speak up, she accused me of disrespect.
And when I became pregnant, she started telling everyone I was lazy.
I didn't want Marcus caught between us.
So I stayed quiet.
I told myself things would improve.
Now I was lying in a hospital bed, frightened for my daughter, while my husband looked as though his world were falling apart.
The doctor returned with the laboratory results.
She spoke calmly.
"Nia, the findings support a diagnosis of preeclampsia with severe features."
I felt cold.
Marcus squeezed my hand.
The doctor explained that the condition could threaten both me and the baby.
She discussed medication, monitoring, and the likelihood of delivering soon.
I listened carefully.
I asked questions.
For the first time in months, nobody told me I was dramatic for wanting answers.
The medical team explained what was happening.
They treated me like a person.
Not a burden.
That alone almost made me cry.
Then the doctor said, "Given the overall situation, we recommend moving toward delivery."
Marcus looked at me.
I looked back.
My throat tightened.
"I wanted more time."
He nodded.
"I know."
"I haven't finished her nursery."
He gave a broken laugh.
"We'll finish it."
"I haven't washed all her clothes."
"We'll wash them."
I started crying again.
"I haven't even decided which blanket to bring her home in."
Marcus kissed my forehead.
"Then we'll choose together."
I held his hand.
For the first time that day, I felt a little less afraid.
The team prepared me for delivery.
As they moved me toward the operating area, Marcus stayed beside me until staff directed him to prepare.
He changed into the clothing they gave him.
When he returned, his face looked pale.
I managed a small smile.
"You look ridiculous."
He laughed nervously.
"Thanks."
I squeezed his hand.
"I'm glad you're here."
His eyes filled.
"There's nowhere else I'd be."
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Evelyn.
He silenced it.
A moment later, it rang again.
Vanessa.
He silenced that too.
I stared at him.
"Maybe you should answer."
He shook his head.
"No."
"Marcus—"
"Nia, right now my only job is being here for you."
My throat tightened.
He put the phone away.
Then he took my hand.
"I'm not leaving."
The delivery moved quickly.
I remember bright lights.
The doctor's calm voice.
Marcus telling me he loved me.
Then I heard a tiny cry.
A small, beautiful sound.
My whole body went still.
"Is that her?"
Marcus looked toward the medical team.
His eyes filled.
"That's our baby."
I started crying.
A nurse brought our daughter close enough for me to see her.
She was tiny.
Her skin was warm brown.
Her little mouth opened as she cried.
I couldn't believe she was real.
"Hi, baby."
My voice broke.
"I'm your mommy."
Marcus was crying openly.
He touched her tiny hand.
"Hey, princess."
For one perfect moment, everything else disappeared.
Evelyn.
Vanessa.
The dishes.
The fear.
There was only our daughter.
Then the nurse gently explained that the baby needed additional observation and support.
She was premature.
Her breathing needed monitoring.
They would take her to the neonatal intensive care unit.
My heart dropped.
"Can I hold her?"
The nurse looked apologetic.
"Not just yet. We'll help you see her as soon as it's safe."
I began crying again.
Marcus kissed my forehead.
"She's getting the care she needs."
I nodded.
But watching them carry my baby away was the hardest thing I'd ever experienced.
After surgery, I was moved to recovery.
The nurses continued monitoring my blood pressure.
I felt exhausted.
Weak.
Terrified.
Marcus sat beside me.
He held my hand.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then I whispered, "Did you see her little fingers?"
He smiled through tears.
"Ten perfect fingers."
I laughed weakly.
"And her nose."
He grinned.
"Definitely yours."
I smiled.
"Poor baby."
He laughed.
For a moment, the room felt lighter.
Then Marcus's phone buzzed.
Another message from Evelyn.
He looked at it.
His expression changed.
I noticed immediately.
"What?"
He shook his head.
"Nothing you need to worry about."
I frowned.
"Marcus."
He sighed.
Then showed me the message.
It read:
I hope you're satisfied. You made your husband turn against his own mother.
I stared at it.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I began crying.
Not because Evelyn had hurt my feelings.
Because even now, while our daughter was in intensive care, she was thinking about herself.
Marcus took the phone.
He typed a reply.
I watched.
Mom, Nia and our baby are receiving medical care. Do not contact her. I will speak with you when we're ready.
Then he blocked further notifications.
I looked at him.
"Are you sure?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
I swallowed.
"She's your mother."
Marcus's eyes filled.
"And you're my wife."
He kissed my forehead.
"And our daughter is my responsibility."
I closed my eyes.
For the first time in months, I felt truly protected.
Then a nurse entered.
She smiled gently.
"Mr. and Mrs. Carter?"
We both looked up.
"Yes?"
"Your daughter is stable enough for a short visit."
My heart leaped.
"Really?"
The nurse nodded.
"Yes."
Marcus stood.
He helped me prepare for the trip to the neonatal unit when my care team cleared me to move.
I was still weak.
Still frightened.
But I wanted to see my baby more than anything.
We reached the nursery.
Rows of tiny beds stood beneath soft lights.
Monitors beeped quietly.
A nurse led us toward the back.
Then I saw her.
Our daughter.
So small.
So beautiful.
Lying beneath a warm light.
I approached slowly.
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
"Hi, sweetheart."
The nurse showed me how to touch her gently.
I placed one finger against her tiny palm.
She curled her fingers around it.
I started sobbing.
Marcus wrapped an arm around me.
For a moment, I forgot how exhausted I was.
I forgot how frightened I'd been.
I simply stared at the tiny person we'd brought into the world.
Then Marcus whispered, "We need to give her a name."
I looked up.
He smiled.
"What about Grace?"
My heart tightened.
Grace.
The name we'd discussed months earlier.
Before the arguments.
Before the hospital.
Before everything became frightening.
I looked at our daughter.
She held my finger tighter.
I smiled through tears.
"Grace."
Marcus kissed my forehead.
"Welcome to the world, Grace Carter."
I thought the worst was finally behind us.
But later that night, while Marcus was helping me settle back into bed, his phone rang again.
This time, it wasn't Evelyn.
It was the security company that monitored our house.
Marcus answered.
His expression changed.
"What?"
I sat straighter.
He listened.
Then his face hardened.
"Are you sure?"
My stomach tightened.
"Marcus?"
He ended the call.
For a moment, he didn't speak.
Then he looked at me.
"Someone used the house's emergency access code."
I stared at him.
"What?"
He swallowed.
"The code only my mother knows."
My heart started pounding.
"And?"
Marcus looked toward the door.
"She's inside our house."
I felt cold.
Our daughter was in intensive care.
I was recovering from emergency surgery.
And Evelyn had entered our home.
May you like
Then Marcus said something that made my stomach drop.
"She's not alone."
