Thirty-two years old.
Vice president of strategic partnerships at Cole Vector.
And, apparently, the woman sleeping with Lauren’s husband.
“Dr. Cole?” the resident whispered.
Lauren’s hand remained steady.
“Two units uncrossed O-negative,” she said. “Page vascular surgery. Call the OR and tell them we’re coming now.”
Ethan stared at her.
“Lauren.”
She ignored him.
The monitor screamed.
Blood pressure dropped to seventy-eight over forty.
Madison’s abdomen was swelling beneath the torn fabric of her dress.
Lauren pressed the ultrasound probe beneath her ribs and watched black fluid flood the screen.
Blood.
A lot of it.
“Positive FAST,” Lauren said. “She’s bleeding internally.”
“Lauren, I need to explain.”
Lauren finally looked at Ethan.
Her blue surgical cap framed a face that was pale from exhaustion but perfectly composed.
At thirty-one weeks pregnant, her belly pressed visibly against her navy scrubs.
She had been standing for nearly ten hours.
