After My Miscarriage, He Took in His Pregnant Lover

The corridor outside the VIP suite felt suffocating as Vincent pulled me away from the chaos. His fingers dug into my arm, steering me toward a quiet alcove where the beeping of monitors and hurried footsteps of nurses couldn't quite reach us.

"Sophia, listen to me," he said, his voice low and urgent. "This isn't what you think."

I yanked my arm free. "Then what is it, Vincent? Because I just watched you sign papers claiming to be another woman's husband."

His eyes darted around, checking for eavesdroppers before settling back on me. "Brielle is Jonathan's fiancée."

"Jonathan?"

"My best friend from law school. He's been deployed overseas for six months." Vincent's voice took on that practiced, persuasive tone I'd heard him use in courtrooms. "She needed someone to sign the consent forms—the hospital requires next of kin or a spouse."

"And you volunteered?" I crossed my arms, feeling the clinical coolness of the hospital walls seeping into my bones.

"Jonathan would do the same for me." Vincent reached for my hand, but I pulled away. "I was just being a good friend, Sophia. You know how these military deployments work—he can't exactly hop on a plane when his fiancée goes into premature labor."

Something in his explanation felt hollow, but I couldn't pinpoint exactly what. The stress of the day—the pregnancy test, the ultrasound, now this—made my head pound.

"It's our anniversary, Vincent," I said, hating how small my voice sounded.

"I know." His expression softened, that charm he wielded so effortlessly sliding into place. "And I'm sorry about dinner. But this is an emergency. You understand emergencies better than anyone."

Before I could respond, Dr. Hartwell appeared at the end of the corridor. "Dr. Parker! We need you in Suite 3 immediately."

Vincent's hand found the small of my back, guiding me forward. "Go. Help her. I'll explain everything later."

---

The scene in Suite 3 was controlled chaos. Monitors blinked red warnings, nurses moved with practiced efficiency, and Brielle West lay pale against the white sheets, her belly swollen beneath the thin hospital gown.

"Dr. Parker," Dr. Hartwell greeted me, relief evident in his tired eyes. "We've stabilized her for now, but we need your expertise. The other OB/GYN is handling a delivery in the east wing."

I nodded, forcing my mind into clinical mode even as my heart hammered against my ribs. "What do we have?"

"Placental abruption at twenty-four weeks. Blood pressure dropping, fetal distress." He handed me the chart. "We've started Pitocin to stop the bleeding, but..."

But it might not be enough. I knew what he wasn't saying.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Vincent hovering near Brielle's bedside. He was holding her hand, wiping her forehead with a tenderness I hadn't seen from him in years.

"Vinny," Brielle whimpered, her eyes fluttering open. "Is the baby okay?"

"We're going to do everything we can," Vincent assured her, his voice gentle.

Something twisted inside me—a sharp, physical pain that had nothing to do with medicine.

"Dr. Parker?" A nurse prompted me for orders.

I forced myself to focus. "Start an IV of magnesium sulfate. Get an ultrasound to check placental attachment. And prep for possible emergency C-section if the bleeding doesn't stop."

As I worked, my hands trembled slightly. I caught Vincent watching me, his expression unreadable.

---

"Brielle needs you to focus," Vincent hissed as I attempted to leave the room. "This isn't about us right now."

"I need to check something," I insisted, pressing a hand to my abdomen where a cramping pain had started to build.

"What could possibly be more important than saving this woman and her baby?" Vincent blocked my path, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Move, Vincent," I said, trying to sidestep him.

Instead, he grabbed my arm. "You're being irrational. People are counting on you."

The pain intensified, radiating through my lower back. "Let go of me."

"Dr. Parker!" A nurse called out as a gurney rushed toward us.

Vincent shoved me aside, clearing the path. "Out of the way!"

I stumbled backward, colliding with a crash cart. Pain exploded through my hip and abdomen.

"Vincent!" I gasped.

But he was already turning away, following Brielle's gurney down the hall.

I watched them disappear around the corner before doubling over, a warm wetness spreading between my legs.

In the stark light of the staff restroom, I stared in horror at the blood staining my scrubs. My hands shook as I fumbled with my phone.

"Dr. Patel," I whispered when she answered. "I need you to check something for me. I think..." My voice broke. "I think I might be losing my babies."