Then the other.
Ethan’s eyes hardened.
Whatever had happened five years ago, whatever secrets had dragged Hannah Mercer out of his life, none of it mattered inside this room.
Right now she was his patient.
And she was dying.
“Incision.”
The blade moved.
Every emotion vanished behind years of surgical discipline.
“Pressure seventy over forty.”
“Transfusion running.”
“Baby A is bradycardic.”
“I know.”
Ethan worked fast.
Too fast for thought.
Too fast for memory.
The operating room became nothing but numbers, blood, commands, and seconds.
“More suction.”
“Retractor.”
“Almost there.”
Then—
“I have Baby A.”
A tiny body emerged into the brutal white light.
No cry.
The room seemed to stop breathing.
“Male infant,” Ethan said.
The neonatal team took him immediately.
Ethan didn’t look away from Hannah.
“Second baby.”
More blood flooded the field.
The abruption was worse than the resident had predicted.
“Doctor, she’s still bleeding.”
