Cormack stopped breathing. The world tilted on its axis, the sterile white walls of the hospital blurring at the edges.
Heart failure. To save the baby.
Behind him, the sharp click-clack of high heels echoed down the corridor. Yara rounded the corner, her face flushed with indignation, closely followed by Royce, who looked deeply uncomfortable.
“Cormack!” Yara snapped, her voice echoing in the quiet maternity ward. “What kind of game are you playing? I have a ruptured ovarian cyst, according to the ER doc downstairs, and my boyfriend is up here chasing after some street trash on a stretcher?”