And there it was—a faint but undeniable movement. The belly, the cradle of their unborn child, shifted again. Rowan’s heart soared with a wild mix of elation and fear. Could it be possible? Had they been wrong?

The doctor who had attended Nyla was hurriedly summoned, his face a mask of professional skepticism that quickly morphed into astonishment as he examined her. The room fell into an anticipatory silence, broken only by the distant hum of the furnace stilling temporarily.

“She’s alive,” the doctor announced, his voice laced with disbelief. “Her pulse is faint, but it’s there. We need to get her to the hospital immediately.”