I Texted My Dad One Word The World Burned novel Chapter 13

Chapter 3

Maybe it was the steel in my stare or the sheer force of my presence, but everyone froze for a moment. Then, a wave of mocking laughter erupted.

“She must’ve been dropped on her head!” one sneered. “Why doesn’t she just claim she’s the president?”

She doesn’t need OB, she needs psych. If she’s the CEO of Dominion Holdings, then I’m the richest man in America.” another scoffed.

Vanessa loomed over me, her eyes dripping with disdain. “Everyone in Ravenshire City knows my husband runs Dominion Holdings. You, claiming to be the CEO? What, is Aiden dead or something?”

The thought of Aiden’s two–faced grin made me snort. “I wish he were.”

Her face twisted with rage. She lunged, slamming her foot into my stomach. “You dare curse my husband? I should end you right here.”

“You and that bastard in your belly can drop dead, and Aiden wouldn’t bat an eye.”

A sickening thud echoed. My stomach clenched, a warm gush spreading beneath me. My face drained as I stared at the fluid pooling between my legs.

I looked up at a nearby doctor, voice shaking. “My water broke. Get me to the ER–now.”

Vanessa slapped me hard across the face. “Water broke? Please, you just wet yourself out of fear.”

IN

The doctor chimed in, smirking. “Exactly. Eight months along, and you think your water’s breaking already? You think we’re idiots?”

I bit my lip, glaring at them, my voice low and dangerous. “You’re a disgrace to those white coats. Any competent doctor could tell my water broke with one look.”

The crowd around us started murmuring, watching my crumpled form.

“She doesn’t look like she’s faking,” one said. “Maybe her water really broke.”

“I came here because Ravenshire Medical Pavilion was supposed to have top–notch equipment and care. Now I’m not so sure,” another added.

Director Clarissa shot them a withering look. “We’re professionals. You think we can’t tell what’s going on? She’s just some broke nobody trying to scam Mrs. Whitlock for a quick buck.”

The crowd relaxed, reassured by her words.

“People like her are the worst, faking a medical emergency to mooch off the system,” one muttered.

“Wasting hospital resources–probably here to pull a stunt for baby formula money,” another sneered.

I clutched my stomach, pain radiating through me, and pleaded with the onlookers. “Someone, please, call an ER doctor. I’m going into labor.”

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