He suddenly stopped, turning to Ian with a pointed gaze. “Trish is in this condition because of Zara. She needs to take responsibility for what she’s done. You need to take her to hospital.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Her condition has nothing to do with me.”
I clung to the doorframe, refusing to move. Ian pried my fingers off the handle, his grip bruising my wrist. “If you hadn’t pushed Trish, she wouldn’t have had an episode. You’re coming with me.”
Ignoring the fact that I was eight months pregnant, he dragged me outside.
At the hospital, Ian and Jaime hovered anxiously over Trish’s side, anxiously waiting for her test results. I took the opportunity to slip away, heading straight to the reception desk to pick up an appointment slip—for an abortion.
Without hesitation, I swallowed the pills the doctor prescribed.
As I held the appointment slip, ready to leave, I suddenly heard a familiar voice echoing from the hallway.
“Trish can’t wait any longer. We need to extract the umbilical cord blood from Zara’s baby as soon as possible.”
Ian’s brows furrowed, his expression unreadable.
“But Zara is only eight months along. Extracting the cord blood right now will put her baby at risk.”