“Sam,” I said, looking him in the eye. “My daughter is in danger from powerful people. If the ambulance takes her, she might not survive the night. I’m a nurse. I can stabilize her. Please, tell them it was a false alarm.”
He looked at the battered woman on the ground, then at me. He nodded. “Go. I’ll handle them.”
I got Olivia into my car. As we drove away into the darkness, she whispered one more thing that made my blood run cold.
“Mom… I’m pregnant.”
I drove without headlights until we hit the paved road. Olivia drifted in and out of consciousness.
“She knows about the baby,” Olivia murmured. “That’s why she did it. She didn’t want her bloodline mixed with ours.”
We reached my old log house. I helped Olivia inside, laid her on the sofa, and immediately went into nurse mode. I started a fire, boiled water, and brought out my emergency kit.
Her wrist was fractured—simple, non-displaced. I splinted it. I cleaned the cuts on her face, checked her pupils for concussion. Her ribs were bruised, likely cracked, but her lungs were clear.
“The baby?” she asked, clutching her stomach.
“No bleeding,” I said gently. “But we need a doctor. A real one.”
“I have proof,” Olivia said suddenly. “In my bag. My phone.”
I found her phone. The screen was cracked but functional.
“She was stealing from the Charity Foundation,” Olivia rasped. “Millions meant for sick children. I found the documents. I asked her about them. She offered to drive me to look at a plot of land to ‘explain.’ She drove me to the woods instead.”
