The chaos in the emergency room hit Nathan like a wall of light, smells, and shouting all at once. He carried Tessa in his arms, moving straight toward the registration desk, ignoring the protests and stares of anyone trying to get in his way.

"She’s my wife! She’s eight weeks pregnant and just diagnosed with autoimmune hepatitis. Her stomach hurts badly. I need an obstetrician, now!" His voice, usually commanding enough to silence a boardroom, trembled just a little.

Authority, the ...