2025-11-14 23:05:34
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PUSHING & COMPLICATIONS
"Alright, Isabelle," Dr. Patel said, positioning herself at the end of the bed. "When the next contraction comes, I need you to push. Big push, hold for ten seconds."Isabelle gripped the bed rails. Ethan stood beside her, one hand holding hers, the other supporting her back."You can do this," he said. "You're so strong. You can do this."The contraction came. The monitor showed the peak."Push!" Dr. Patel commanded.Isabelle pushed with everything she had. Ten seconds that felt like an eternity. Then she collapsed back, gasping."Good. That was good." Dr. Patel checked the monitor. "Baby's moving down. We're making progress."Again. And again. And again.Push after push after push. Isabelle lost track of how many. Her entire world narrowed to the contraction building, the command to push, the effort that took every ounce of strength."I can't," she gasped after the eighth push. "I can't do it anymore.""Yes you can." Ethan wiped her forehead. "You're almost there. Our son is almost
LABOR BEGINS
The labor and delivery nurse got Isabelle settled into room 412."Let's check your progress," she said, snapping on gloves. After a quick exam, she nodded. "Four centimeters dilated. Water broke, contractions every seven minutes. You're definitely in active labor.""How long?" Isabelle asked."First babies? Could be twelve hours, could be twenty-four. Everyone's different." The nurse attached monitors to Isabelle's stomach. "Let's get you comfortable and see how things progress."Ethan took up position in the chair beside her bed. He'd done this before—sort of—during the false labor scare. But this time felt different. Real. Final.The first few hours were manageable.Contractions came and went—uncomfortable but tolerable. Isabelle breathed through them, squeezing Ethan's hand when they peaked. He coached her breathing like they'd practiced in the online class he'd completed last week."In through your nose, out through your mouth. That's it. You're doing great."But as evening turned
NESTING & FINAL PREPARATIONS
Thirty-seven weeks, four days.Isabelle woke with an overwhelming urge to reorganize the entire nursery."The crib needs to move," she announced when Ethan brought her breakfast. "It's blocking the natural light flow. And the changing table should be closer to the door so we don't have to walk across the room with a dirty diaper."Ethan looked at the nursery, which they'd carefully arranged two weeks ago. "Everything looks fine to me.""It's not fine. It's all wrong." Isabelle struggled to sit up, frustrated by her enormous belly. "And we need to wash all the baby clothes again. I read that newborns have sensitive skin and clothes can collect dust sitting in drawers—""Isabelle." Ethan set down the breakfast tray. "You're nesting.""I'm not nesting. I'm preparing.""You're definitely nesting." He smiled. "It's okay. Tell me what you want moved and I'll move it."So Isabelle directed from her position in the doorway—technically still in bed rest compliance—while Ethan rearranged furnit
FALSE ALARM
The contractions woke Isabelle at 3:14 AM.Sharp, intense, wrapping around her entire abdomen. She gasped, clutching her stomach, and immediately started timing them on her phone.Five minutes later, another. Just as strong."Ethan!" Her voice came out louder than she intended, panic edging in.His footsteps pounded down the hallway. He burst through her bedroom door, already pulling on a sweatshirt. "How far apart?""Five minutes. Maybe less." Another contraction hit and Isabelle doubled over. "Oh god, it's too early. Thirty-seven weeks, that's just barely—""It's full-term. Dr. Patel said thirty-seven weeks is full-term." Ethan was already grabbing the hospital bags from the closet, his voice calm despite the fear in his eyes. "Can you walk?""I think so."He helped her stand, one arm supporting her weight as they moved toward the stairs. Another contraction hit halfway down. Isabelle stopped, gripping the railing, breathing through the pain."I've got you." Ethan's voice was steady
The New Beginning
Three months later, the verdict came down in a Manhattan federal courthouse.Victor Ashford was found guilty on forty-seven counts of human trafficking, twenty-three counts of kidnapping, eighteen counts of illegal medical experimentation, and numerous other charges that carried sentences measured in lifetimes.The judge gave him thirty years without possibility of parole.James watched from the gallery with Elena beside him and his parents behind him. When the sentence was read, his mother squeezed his shoulder. His father said quietly, "It's over."But James knew it wasn't over. Not really. Victor's network had been larger than just him.Still, twelve additional arrests had been made across five countries. Three facilities besides Nevada had been raided and shut down. Eight more survivors had been found and were receiving care.It was progress. Significant progress.James's parents had recovered remarkably well. The years of captivity had taken their toll, but the Thorne resilience
ETHAN MOVES BACK IN (TEMPORARILY)
The doctor's final instructions were clear and uncompromising."Bed rest until delivery. Not modified bed rest, not taking it easy—actual bed rest. You get up for the bathroom and to shower. That's it." Dr. Patel looked between Isabelle and Ethan. "And you need someone with you twenty-four seven. No exceptions. If something goes wrong, you need help immediately.""I understand," Isabelle said.In the hospital parking lot, Ethan stood by his truck, keys in hand, looking at Isabelle like he was calculating something difficult."I'm moving back to the estate," he said finally. "Guest room. Just until the baby comes."Isabelle's breath caught. "You don't have to—""Yes, I do." Ethan's voice was firm. "You can't be alone. The staff isn't enough—you need someone who knows the signs, who can get you to the hospital fast if contractions start again. And I can't risk something happening to you or Thomas because I was too stubborn to do what's necessary.""Ethan—""This isn't about us. It's abo
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