The helicopter touches down on the hospital's rooftop helipad. A bodyguard throws the door open, and Evan stands. He moves carefully to avoid jostling Avery. She moans in his arms, and her head lolls to the side. She's like a broken doll in his arms.

Outside, a team of emergency technicians and doctors are waiting with a stretcher. Evan gently lays her on top, and the technicians quickly strap her down. They wheel her away at a steady jog, and Evan follows behind. The white hospital corridors seem endless, and the stench of bleach burns his nose. They wind through the maze-like passages, finally arriving outside an operating room. Evan tries to follow them through the door, but a doctor bars his way.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you can't come in," the doctor says. "Surgeons and nurses only—we have to keep the room as sanitary as possible."

Evan scowls and tries to shove the doctor aside. He can't bear to leave Avery's side.

"Sir, it's for her own safety," the bold doctor says, "You can wait outside in the waiting area. We'll give you updates as soon as we have an accurate understanding of her condition."

Evan groans and sinks into a hard leather chair. Though he's in the VIP wing of one of the most exclusive private hospitals, the chair is incredibly uncomfortable. He stands and paces the waiting area. A clock on the wall ticks loudly, and his footsteps echoed in the empty room. Every now and then, he could hear a metallic clank and the muffled voices of doctors and nurses from the operating room.

With each noise, his blood runs cold, and his mind races. He imagines them cutting the fetus out of Avery. Then he sees Avery dying on the operating table, the color draining from her face as she bleeds out. He hears the long, flat beep of the heart monitor as her heart stops forever.

He slams his fist into the white walls and the plaster cracks with a satisfying crunch. He draws his arm back and hits it again and again, imagining the cracked wall is the surgeons' face, and then Andrew, and Michelle. When he pulls his hand away, white paint chips and dust stick to his bloody knuckles. The ache in his bruised fingers is a welcome distraction.

Minutes pass and then hours. Evan slumps into the chair and waits for news. He wonders why it's taking so long. Admittedly, it shouldn't take this much time, he thinks. Has something gone wrong? Have they lost the baby? Have they lost Avery? He's about to charge into the operating room when he hears footsteps. He jumped to his feet, but immediately sits back down—it's just Robert.

"Sir, we have to talk," Robert says nervously. "As soon as your grandfather hears that Avery is in the hospital, he's going to want access to all information concerning the fetus' health."

"So?" Evan asks.

"Well, sir, he's going to want to know how she was injured in the first place," Robert explains. "I can give him a gentler version of the story, of course, but it'll be impossible to erase your involvement completely. And he could question any of the bodyguards at any time to see if they tell the same version."

Evan wants to hit Robert. "So?" he asks again. "I don't give a damn what you tell him, just do your job."

Robert shifts his weight uncomfortably. "He's not going to be happy that you risked your life to save her again. True, she carries the heir. But if something had happened to the both of you—well, then there'd never been an heir at all."

Evan scowls and rubbed his temples, slumping lower into the chair. Robert is right. His grandfather will be furious when he finds out what happened on the helicopter—possibly even more furious than he was after the snake incident.

Robert clears his throat. "Mr. Howel, why don't you change into a fresh suit?" he asks. "I know you've been through a lot, but the family has an image to maintain, and this hospital is not quite as private as it seems."

Evan looks down at his rumpled and windblown suit. One pant leg is torn, and Avery's dried blood stains his white shirt. He sighs and nods, but before Robert can bring him a fresh suit, the door to the operating room swings open. The head surgeon steps out, still wearing gloves and a mask.

His scrubs are covered in large splotches of fresh blood, and there's a red stain on his mask. He pulls the mask down, streaking more blood across his sweaty face. "The baby is—"

"How's Avery?" Evan asks, interrupting the surgeon.

"She's stable," the surgeon answers. "Badly injured, but stable. As long as there are no complications, we expect her to make a full recovery."

Evan feels his entire body relax. "And the baby?" he asks.

The surgeon looks down at the floor. "We've saved the pregnancy for now," he says, "But Mrs. Howel suffered some terrible injuries. Her entire abdominal region was damaged, and that could have unexpected effects on the fetus' health and development."

"What are you saying?" Evan asks, his voice flat and cold.

"I'm saying that the pregnancy is dangerous," the doctor says nervously. "Right now, we give it a 50% chance, and that's only if Mrs. Howel carefully follows our recovery plan. They both have a long road ahead of them. There may come a time when we have to make a choice—"

"Try your best to save the baby," Evan says. "But if you need to make a choice between the baby and Avery, choose Avery."

The surgeon nodded reassuringly. "Yes, Mr. Howel," he says. "Of course, we're hoping for the best, but Avery is young and healthy. Rest assured, her injuries won't prevent her from becoming pregnant again in the future."

Evan barely hears the surgeon. The operating room doors swing open again, and a team of nurses wheels Avery out of the room. Her eyes are closed, her hair is matted, and her face is pale, but she's breathing. Evan turns sharply and follows her down the hallway.

Leonie flees back down the hall when she hears the squeak of the stretcher's rubber wheels. She throws herself into a waiting room chair near the elevator bank and hides her face behind an old magazine. Her heart pounds in her ears. She can't believe Evan told the surgeon to save Avery over the baby.

I thought he had a deal with his grandfather, Leonie thinks. If Avery gives him a child, Diana can come back from her exile. If he really loves Diana, it makes no sense for him to choose Avery over the baby. Ugh, that woman is so lucky. Somehow, she's managed to make Evan forget about my sister and ignore me, and now she's somehow survived the helicopter.

Leonie peeks over the magazine and sees some nurses wheeling Avery into the elevator. Evan follows closely on their heels. He waves his hand impatiently, and most of the nurses wait to take the next elevator.

"That's Mrs. Howel, you know," gossip one of the nurses. "An old classmate works at St. Peter's Hospital, and he said he always saw her with Dr. Meyers."

"Speaking of Dr. Meyers, does anyone know what happened to him?" another nurse asks. "I have friends at St. Meyers too, and no one has seen him in weeks. They say his father has stopped coming to the hospital too."

One of the nurses glances in Leonie's direction, and Leonie quickly hides behind the magazine. The nurse lowers her voice, but it carries across the room, "I heard that Dr. Meyers is dead, and it has to do with the Howel's."

"What, you mean like, the Howel's killed Dr. Meyers?" one asks incredulously.

"It's just silly gossip," scolds the first. "We need to be careful about what we say, too. We don't want anyone to find out that we're gossiping on the job."

The elevator dings, and the nurses get on. Leonie lowers the magazine and watches them as she tries to form a plan.