Betrayed by Her Husband

A sharp pain tore through my abdomen, stealing my breath mid-sentence. I clutched the edge of the kitchen counter, my knuckles turning white as another contraction gripped me.

"No," I whispered, looking down at the wetness spreading across my dress. "Not now. Please, not now."

I fumbled for my phone with trembling hands, dialing Elliott's number. One ring. Two rings. Three.

"Stella?" His voice was distracted, background noise suggesting he was at some social event.

"Elliott," I gasped as another contraction hit. "Something's wrong. I think I'm in labor."

There was a pause, then the muffled sound of him covering the phone and speaking to someone else. When he returned to the call, his voice had changed.

"Phoenix is having an emergency at the spa," he said, his tone clipped. "I can't just leave her."

"An emergency?" I nearly screamed. "I'm having our baby, Elliott!"

"Isn't your due date next month?" His voice dripped with impatience. "You're probably just having Braxton Hicks contractions. Take a bath or something."

The dismissal cut deeper than any physical pain. "This isn't practice, Elliott. My water just broke."

Before he could respond, I heard Phoenix's voice in the background, her tone urgent and theatrical. "Elliott, they're saying I might need stitches. The masseuse thinks I'm having some kind of reaction..."

"I have to go," Elliott said curtly. "Handle your pregnancy drama with someone else."

The line went dead.

I called 911, my voice breaking as I explained my situation. The dispatcher's calm voice guided me through breathing exercises until I heard sirens approaching.

"Ma'am, we need to verify your insurance information before transport," the paramedic said as they wheeled me toward the ambulance.

I rattled off my policy number, praying it would be enough.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Shaw," the supervisor said, stepping into the ambulance bay. "There seems to be an issue with your coverage. We'll need a payment of two hundred dollars before we can transport you."

"Two hundred dollars?" I echoed, disbelief washing over me. "But I'm in labor!"

"We understand, ma'am, but policy requires payment upfront for out-of-network services."

My mind raced. Elliott controlled our joint accounts—accounts that held millions of dollars. Two hundred dollars was nothing to him.

"Can I make a call?" I begged.

They handed me a phone, and I dialed Elliott again, my fingers shaking so badly I misdialed twice.

When he answered, I could hear the irritation in his voice. "Stella, I'm dealing with an actual emergency here."

"I need two hundred dollars for the ambulance," I said quickly. "They won't transport me without it."

There was a pause, then Phoenix's voice came through clearly. "Elliott, don't fall for this. It's exactly what we talked about—she's trying to ruin our evening."

"She's in labor," Elliott replied, but his voice lacked conviction.

"Please," I begged, tears streaming down my face. "Our baby needs help."

"See?" Phoenix's voice was triumphant. "She's using the baby to manipulate you. If she was really in labor, she'd be at the hospital already."

I heard Elliott sigh heavily. "Stella, stop this. I'm hanging up now."

"Elliott, no—"

The line went dead.

The paramedics exchanged uncomfortable glances. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but we can't transport you without payment."

"I'll drive myself," I whispered, sliding off the gurney. "I have to get to the hospital."

A kind-faced paramedic helped me into my car, against protocol. "Be careful, ma'am. Labor looks advanced."

I nodded, fumbling with my keys as another contraction seized me. The pain was intensifying, radiating from my back to my abdomen in relentless waves.

Halfway to the hospital, I felt a sudden rush of warmth between my legs. My water had broken completely now, soaking through my dress and onto the car seat.

"No, no, no," I pleaded, trying to focus on the road as my vision blurred with tears.

A sharp pain unlike anything I'd ever experienced tore through me, and I cried out, my hands leaving the steering wheel for just a moment.

The car swerved, tires screeching against asphalt as I fought to regain control.

"Help," I gasped, pulling over to the side of the road. "Someone please help me."

A woman knocked on my window minutes later, her face concerned as she peered inside.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "Are you in labor?"

I nodded weakly, unable to form words as another contraction gripped me.

"I'm calling an ambulance," she said firmly, reaching for her phone.

As she made the call, I felt something change inside me—a shift, a descent. My baby was coming now, whether I was ready or not.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, a terrible certainty began to form: this delay, this desperate struggle to get help—it was going to cost me everything I held dear.