Chapter 3 - Siren Scream
The sirens shattered the suffocating tension inside the estate, their red and blue strobes painting violent streaks of light across the dining room ceiling. Paramedics burst through the heavy front oak doors within seconds, their heavy boots clattering against the polished floor.
""Twenty-eight-year-old female, late second trimester, severe trauma and acute hemorrhaging!"" the lead paramedic barked, immediately dropping beside Clara with medical kits flying open. An oxygen mask was strapped to Clara’s pale face, misting faintly with every weak exhale.
Ethan was forcefully shoved back by a second responder. ""Sir, give us room! Let us work!""
""That’s my wife! That’s my baby!"" Ethan fought against the grip, his eyes locked on Clara. She was fading fast, her hazel eyes losing focus, drifting toward the towering figure of Eleanor who stood quietly by the doorway.
As two EMTs loaded Clara onto the stretcher, one of them glanced down at the puddle of spilled tea near the shattered cup. His brow furrowed at the peculiar, chemical smell rising from the amber liquid, but the immediate crisis dragged his attention away. ""Heart rate is plummeting. We need to move! Trauma bay one, prep for an emergency C-section!""
Ethan moved to follow the stretcher as it rolled toward the exit, but Eleanor caught his forearm. Her grip was surprisingly vice-like for an aging woman.
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""Listen carefully, Ethan,"" she whispered, her voice low enough that only he could hear beneath the chaos. ""Go to the hospital if you must. But if you speak a word of your baseless accusations to the police, you will find yourself penniless, disgraced, and completely alone.""
Ethan ripped his arm from her grasp with a sound of utter disgust. ""I would burn every dollar you own just to watch you rot in a cell."" He turned and bolted into the night, chasing the ambulance into the dark.
