Thinking his pregnant wife was faking her brutal fall to ruin his family image, the furious husband crossed a dangerous line, only to realize the horrifying truth seconds later.

The ambulance ride to the hospital lasted twelve minutes, but every single second felt like a decade of torture.

Inside the back of the emergency vehicle, the air smelled of metallic blood and antiseptic. A paramedic pressed an oxygen mask over my face while another frantically set up a fetal heart monitor, placing the sensor over my swollen belly.

At first, a rapid, faint beating sound filled the small space.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.

I closed my eyes, weeping with relief. "He's alive... Daniel, he's alive!"

"I know, baby. Stay strong," Daniel begged, sitting near my feet. He was still wearing the blue dress shirt he had worn to dinner, now stained with my blood across the sleeves.

Then, the rhythm changed.

The steady thumping slowed down. It staggered, skipping beats, before turning into a weak, erratic flutter.

The paramedic’s hands moved faster, adjusting the machine, but her face went entirely pale. Medical professionals are trained to keep their emotions hidden from patients, but she couldn't hide the panic in her eyes.

"What's happening?" I whispered, pulling the mask down slightly. "Tell me! Is my baby okay?!"

"We're almost at the trauma center, sweetie," the paramedic said softly, squeezing my shoulder. "Just keep breathing."

It was a generic, terrifying answer.

I turned my head to look at Daniel. He was staring at his blood-stained hands, his body shaking uncontrollably.

"Daniel," I called out weakly.

His eyes snapped to mine. "Em?"

"Promise me something," I rasped, tears spilling down my cheeks. "If something happens... if we lose him..."

"Don't talk like that," he sobbed. "Oliver is going to be fine."

"Listen to me!" I squeezed his hand with all the strength I had left. "Promise me you won't let your mother spin this. Don't let her escape what she did."