Cole glanced at me, amused. “Hear that, Han? Daddy wants—”
“I said put her on,” Grant repeated. “Now.”
Cole’s smile twitched. Not fear yet. Just irritation that he wasn’t controlling the pace.
He shoved the phone at me. My fingers were cold and slick.
“Dad,” I breathed, and the word came out broken.
On the other end, something sharpened. “Hannah. Where are you?”
“At home,” I said, fighting to keep my breath steady. My stomach clenched again. “I’m bleeding. I think… I think I’m losing the baby.”
A pause—small and controlled, like a door closing quietly.
“Listen to me,” Grant said. “Stay on the line. Do not hang up. Tell me what room you’re in.”
“The kitchen.”
