Chapter 7 - THE CAB RIDE
“Call an ambulance!” Luca roared, dropping to his knees beside us.
Marco pulled out his phone, but swore loudly. “No signal in the basement. I have to go outside.”
“Go!” Luca yelled.
Marco sprinted up the stairs.
Emily was panting, her eyes rolling back slightly. “It hurts, Dad. It hurts so much.”
“I’ve got you,” Luca said, pulling off his heavy suit jacket and sliding it beneath her head. “You’re going to be okay. The baby is going to be okay.”
I checked the time on my phone. 11:42 PM.
“Mr. Moretti,” I said urgently. “We can’t wait for an ambulance. If they get lost or delayed… she’s losing too much fluid. We need to move her now.”
Luca didn’t hesitate.
He scooped his daughter into his arms, lifting her as easily as if she were a child.
We rushed up the stairs.
Vanessa was still huddled in the corner, crying. Luca didn’t even look at her.
When we burst through the front doors, Marco was frantically waving his hands.
“The street is blocked!” Marco shouted. “An accident at the intersection. No vehicles can get in or out. The ambulance is stuck three blocks away.”
Luca looked down the street. A massive pileup of cars and flashing police lights blocked the only exit from the neighborhood.
“We’ll carry her,” Luca said, adjusting his grip on Emily.
“It’s too far, Dad,” Emily cried, another contraction hitting her. She arched her back in agony.
Suddenly, a pair of headlights swept over us.
A yellow taxi cab slowly navigated through the residential side street, bypassing the main traffic jam.
It was the cab Vanessa had called to the mansion hours ago, the one that had been searching for Emily’s address after she never showed up.
I sprinted into the street, waving my arms frantically.
The cab screeched to a halt.
The driver rolled down his window, looking terrified at the sight of armed men.
“Chicago Med. Now,” Luca ordered, opening the back door and sliding Emily inside.
I climbed in next to her, pulling her head onto my lap.
“Step on it!” Luca yelled at the driver, climbing into the front passenger seat.
The driver slammed on the gas.
The ride was a blur of streetlights and agonizing screams.
Emily squeezed my hand with every contraction, her nails breaking skin, but I didn’t pull away.
“Tell Michael,” she gasped between breaths. “Claire, if I don’t make it… tell Michael I love him.”
“You’re going to tell him yourself,” I said fiercely, wiping her forehead. “You are going to marry him, and you are going to raise this baby together.”
Luca was turned around in the front seat, holding his daughter’s other hand, tears streaming freely down his hardened face.
“You’re my daughter,” he whispered to her over the engine’s roar. “I don’t care what blood is in your veins. I don’t care what drawing Marcus found. You are mine. You hear me?”
Emily looked at him, her eyes softening despite the pain.
“I know, Daddy,” she breathed. “I know.”
The cab skidded into the emergency bay of Chicago Med.
Nurses and orderlies rushed out with a gurney.
They pulled Emily from the cab, barking medical terms I didn’t understand.
“Fetal distress,” one nurse yelled. “Heart rate is dropping. We need to prep an OR for an emergency C-section, now!”
They wheeled her through the double doors.
Luca tried to follow, but a doctor stopped him.
“Sir, you can’t come in here. We are doing everything we can.”
The doors swung shut, locking us out.
Luca collapsed into a plastic waiting room chair, putting his head in his hands.
The most powerful man in Chicago was completely helpless.
I sat beside him, covered in sweat.
Then, a young man in a wrinkled sweater came sprinting through the hospital doors, looking frantically around the waiting room.
It was Michael, the baby’s father.
May you like
He saw Luca and froze.
“Mr. Moretti,” Michael stammered, looking terrified. “Is she… is she okay?”
