The fluorescent lights of the third-floor recovery room hummed softly against the sterile white walls of the Dallas hospital. Emily leaned back against the thin pillows, her hand resting gently over her swollen stomach. At twenty-four, she was eight months pregnant, exhausted, and completely alone. She worked six days a week cleaning executive suites to support herself, but today, severe stomach pains had brought her to the emergency room.
Dr. Evans: Your blood pressure is elevated, Emily. We need you to stay calm and lie flat while we run these monitors.
Emily: I'm trying, Doctor... it just hurts so much every time the baby moves.
Dr. Evans: I understand, but stress will only make the contractions worse.
Before Emily could answer, the door swung open with a loud thud. A woman in a bright pink designer dress stepped into the room, her high heels clicking aggressively against the polished tile floor. It was Victoria Vance, the wife of the hospital board's chief donor, and the woman who owned the cleaning company Emily worked for.
Victoria: Well, well. Look who is lying in a private room on the hospital's dime.
Emily: Mrs. Vance? What are you doing here?
Victoria: I got a call that one of my maids walked off her shift claiming an 'emergency.' You left the floor unwashed, Emily.
Emily: I was having severe abdominal pains... the doctor said I might go into early labor!
Victoria: I don't care about your excuses! KNOW YOUR PLACE, EMILY!
Victoria lunged forward, grabbing Emily’s shoulder tightly and shoving her back against the metal bed frame. The sudden jolt sent a sharp wave of agony straight through Emily's lower abdomen. The heart rate monitor beside the bed began to beep frantically as her pulse spiked.
Dr. Evans: Mrs. Vance, please! She's a high-risk patient! You can't be in here doing this!
Victoria: Shut up, Doctor! My family built this wing! I can do whatever I want!
Emily: DON'T TOUCH ME AGAIN!
Tears cut fast tracks down Emily's pale cheeks as she clutched her pregnant belly, gasping for air. Her trembling hand reached over to the bedside table, unzipping her small white leather pouch. Her fingers wrapped around her black smartphone, pulling it out into the open light.
Dr. Evans: EMILY, PUT THE PHONE DOWN!
Victoria: Who are you calling? Your broke friends? Nobody is coming to save you, girl!
Emily ignored them both, her bloody, bandaged thumb pressing the top contact on her screen. She put the phone straight to her ear as the line began to ring on speakerphone, her voice cracking with pure desperation.
Emily: UNCLE RAYMOND, I NEED YOU TO COME UP TO THE THIRD FLOOR!
The line on the other end went silent for a fraction of a second, followed by the deep, heavy sound of a powerful engine roaring to life in the parking garage below.
Uncle Raymond: I'm already in the elevator, sweetheart. I'm coming right now.