Mated by Contract to the Alpha
<b>Chapter </b>160
国
Reba’s POV
The taxi pulled up to the emergency entrance of East Side General Hospital. The pain in my abdomen had intensified during <b>the </b>ride, sharp and insistent, I felt something precious was being <b>torn </b>away from me. I fumbled with my wallet, but Emily gently pushed my hand away.
“I’ve got this,” she said, handing the driver some bills. “You focus on getting inside.”
As we stepped out, I turned to her. My breathing was shallow, my forehead <b>damp </b>with cold sweat.
“Thank you for your help, but I need to do this alone,” I said, trying to sound moreposed than I felt. My voice trembled slightly despite my efforts. “Would you mind waiting out here? I need a little privacy.”
Emily hesitated, her dark eyes studying me. Her brow furrowed with what seemed <b>like </b>genuine concern<b>. </b>“Are you <b>sure</b><b>? </b>I don’t mind staying with you.”
“I’m sure, I insisted, forcing a weak smile while gripping the edge of my jacket tightly. “Please<b>?</b>”
She nodded reluctantly. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
I made my way through the sliding doors, <b>one </b>arm wrapped protectively around my middle. The emergency room <b>was </b>busy but not chaotic–nothing like the pristine efficiency of Silvercrest, but functional. I approached the reception desk, where a tired–looking nurse handed me a clipboard.
“Nature of your emergency?” she asked without looking <b>up</b>.
“Severe abdominal pain,” I replied, my <b>voice </b>barely above a whisper. My hand instinctively moved to my stomach again. Two weeks. Just two weeks, and already <b>this </b>tiny life had burrowed <b>so </b>deeply into my heart.
The nurse nced up, taking in my pale face and hunched posture. “Any chance you’re pregnant?”
My heart skipped. I felt a moment of panic, wondering if it showed on my <b>face</b>. “I… yes. But it’s very early.”
That got her attention. She set aside her paperwork and stood up. “How early?”
“Two weeks,” I admitted.
She nodded <b>and </b>made a note. “<b>Any </b>bleeding?”
“No, just pain. Severe cramping.”
“Wait here.” She disappeared through a door, returning momentster with another nurse who guided me past the <b>waiting </b>area directly into an examination room.
“The doctor will <b>be </b>right with you,” she said, handing me a gown. “Change into this, please.”
Left alone, I changed slowly, each movement careful. I sat on the edge of the examination table, arms wrapped around my middle. My shoulders slumped forward as the weight of everything crashed down on me,
“Please hold on, little one,” I whispered<b>, </b>tears welling in my eyes. My voice cracked with emotion. Please be okay.”
Dr. Morgan arrived shortly after–a woman in her forties with kind eyes and an efficient manner. She asked questions about my symptoms, my medical history, how I knew I was pregnant so early. I avoided mentioning anything about werewolves or Dominie’s true nature, focusing Instead on the pain and my recent emotional stress.
After examining me, her expression grew serious. Her eyes softened with professional sympathy.
“Ms. Brown, you’re experiencing uterine contractions consistent with threatened miscarriage. It appears to be triggered by extreme emotional distress,”
My heart plummeted. I felt the <b>blood </b>drain from my face. “Am I going to lose the baby?”
“Not necessarily,” she said, her voice softening. “But you’re also showing signs of malnutrition, which increases the risk, especially in early pregnancy.”
I hadn’t <b>been </b>eating well since learning about Jason’s death, and the morning sickness had made it worse. “What can I do?” I asked desperately, My hands gripped the edge of the examination table, knuckles turning white.
“You need to be admitted for observation–at least 24 hours. We’ll start you on IV fluids <b>and </b>nutrients<b>.</b>” She made a note my chart. “I <b>have </b>to say, it’s unusual to have such pronounced symptoms at just two weeks. Most women don’t even know they’re pregnant at <b>this </b><b>stage</b>.”
I swallowed hard. I couldn’t exactly exin that the baby’s father was a werewolf, and that might be elerating
things.
“Will my baby be okay?” I asked, my voice small. My eyes searched hers desperately for reassurance.
Dr. Morgan’s expression was professional but kind. “For now, yes. But to ensure healthy development, you must maintain emotional stability. No extreme stress, no distressing situations.” She paused. “Is there anyone we should call for you?”
I shook my head quickly. My pulse quickened at the thought of Dominic finding out. “Actually, doctor, could you please <b>make </b>a note in my chart? I’d like to keep my pregnancy confidential. Even if someonees asking about me -especially a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes. He doesn’t know <b>yet</b>, and I’m not ready to tell him.”