Michael’s POV

I snatched my phone from the table, my heart racing as the emergency alert flashed on the screen. "Critical bleeding, possible pregnancy complications. Need your expertise."

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I stormed out of my office, the sound of hurried footsteps and hushed conversations filling the hallway. Nurses passed by, their faces pale with worry. A muffled beep from the distant monitors and the buzz of machines echoed in my ears.

"Doctor!" A voice pierced through the chaos, and I turned to see Nurse Karen rushing toward me. Her face was flushed, beads of sweat forming on her brow. "The patient's in Room 103. The bleeding is severe. They’re struggling to stabilize her."

"Got it. Let’s move." I snapped, already heading down the corridor.

As we turned the corner, I could see the team gathered outside the room. I nodded at them and pushed the door open. Inside, the scene was tense. A woman, no older than 30, was lying on the bed, pale and trembling. Blood pooled under her, and her breathing came in short, shallow bursts. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the ceiling, unblinking.

Her chest rose and fell erratically.

A nurse stood by the IV, adjusting fluids. Another checked the vitals. The tension was palpable. I scanned the room quickly, immediately zeroing in on the heart monitor—her pulse was racing, dangerously high.

I stepped forward, moving to her side, my voice low but authoritative. "What’s her condition?" I asked, turning to the nurse beside her.

"Severe internal hemorrhage, Doctor. We tried to control it, but—" She paused, biting her lip, reluctant to finish.

I didn’t need her to finish. I already knew.

I lifted my gaze to the woman in the bed. "Can you hear me, ma'am?" I asked gently, but there was no response. Her eyes remained locked on the ceiling, unresponsive. "Can you blink once for yes, twice for no?"

Nothing. She couldn’t even answer.

I placed my fingers on her wrist to check her pulse. It was erratic, too fast. Damn it.

"She’s pregnant," Karen added quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

The blood drained from my face. "How far along?"

"About 8 weeks, Doctor."

I nodded, my mind racing. "We’re not just dealing with a hemorrhage here. This could be a miscarriage if we don’t act fast enough."

The room seemed to hold its breath. I rubbed my hands together for a moment, my mind whirling. There were risks—if the bleeding didn’t stop soon, we might have to make a decision I wasn’t ready to make.

"Doctor," Karen’s voice broke through my thoughts. "She’s losing too much blood. The fetus... we might—"

I raised my hand, stopping her. "Let’s deal with her first. Stabilize her. Then we can worry about the pregnancy."

I moved closer to the patient’s side, pulling the sheet back gently to examine her abdomen. A dull ache settled deep in my chest as I felt the swelling. There was no denying it. The pregnancy was real, and it was in trouble.

Her body was already beginning to shut down. Blood was pooling in places it shouldn’t, and the clotting was insufficient. I needed to act now.

"Get the ultrasound machine," I said, my voice firm, almost demanding. "Now."

Karen moved fast, and the technician appeared at the door within seconds.

I tried to keep my thoughts focused, ignoring the panic threatening to claw at the edges of my mind. A woman and her child were depending on me. I couldn’t falter now.

The ultrasound machine hummed to life. I wiped the gel across her stomach and placed the wand carefully over her skin. I squinted at the screen, my heart sinking as I saw the fetus. It was still alive, but just barely. The flickering heartbeat was weak, far weaker than it should be for this stage of pregnancy. The bleeding wasn’t just affecting the mother—it was affecting the baby too.

"What are we looking at, Doctor?" Karen asked, standing behind me, her voice filled with concern.

I ran a hand through my hair. "The pregnancy is in jeopardy," I muttered, barely able to keep my voice steady. "The bleeding is too severe for her body to carry the child much longer. The fetus is struggling."

A moment of silence passed in the room before Nurse Karen spoke again. "Can we save both?"

I glanced at the monitor again, frustration building. "The priority is her survival, Karen. If we don’t stop this hemorrhage, she’ll die. But if we try to save the fetus... it might kill them both."

A nurse cleared her throat hesitantly. "Should we prepare for a D&C?"

I looked at her sharply. "We’re not there yet. Not unless it’s the only option left."

The air felt thick, oppressive. I pressed my lips together, my thoughts churning. My fingers tightened around the edge of the bed. Time was running out. The longer I waited, the less likely it would be for either of them to make it.

"Get the OR prepped," I ordered. "We’re taking her into surgery."

Karen nodded, but she hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "But Doctor... What about the baby? If we don't do something—"

I interrupted her, my voice cold and hard. "She might not make it if we don’t do something now. I’m not going to let her bleed out in front of us."

I met her gaze, trying to make her understand. "I’m not a miracle worker, Karen. I don’t know if I can save them both, but I’m sure as hell going to try to save her."

The nurses scrambled to follow my orders, one calling for anesthesia, another prepping the patient for transport. I watched them work, my mind still racing through possibilities.

I turned back to the patient. "Ma’am, I know you can’t hear me right now, but we’re doing everything we can. We’ll try to save your baby, but the most important thing is that we save you."

There was no response—only the soft, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor as I continued to work, moving fast, my thoughts like a blur. I wouldn’t let fear control me. Not now.

The team worked quickly, transferring her to the OR bed. I took a deep breath, clenching my fists, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.

"Let’s go," I said, turning to follow them out of the room. "And get me a team of specialists in there. This is going to be a delicate one."

As we rushed down the hall, my mind was already mapping out the surgery. Time was running out, and I needed to be sharp. There was no room for hesitation. Not now. Not ever. She looks like she was going to die.