Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 75

Julian: POV

I broke every traffic law getting to Brooklyn.

Red lights. Speed limits. Stop signs.

None of it mattered.

The only thing that mattered was the broken sound of Elena's voice on that call. The way she'd said *"the baby"* before the line went dead.

My hands were shaking on the wheel. My heart pounding so hard I thought my ribs might crack.

*Please God. Please.*

I wasn't a praying man. Never had been.

But right now I'd bargain with the devil himself if it meant she was okay.

That **they** were okay.

Adrian had pinged her phone's location. Some abandoned stretch near the old industrial district. The kind of place where nobody went at four in the morning unless they were running from something.

Or being hunted.

*What the fuck was she doing there?*

I should've known she'd run. Should've seen it coming the moment I said those three words that destroyed everything.

*"I don't know."*

What kind of fucking coward says that to the woman carrying his child?

The Bentley's tires screeched as I took the corner too fast. Almost clipped a lamppost.

Didn't slow down.

Couldn't.

Because if I was too late—if something happened to her—

*No.*

I shoved the thought away. Gripped the wheel tighter.

She was fine. She **had** to be fine.

The baby was fine.

They were both—

My phone rang. Adrian.

"Talk to me." My voice came out hoarse. Desperate.

"Ambulance is two minutes out. I'm pulling up now."

"Is she—" I couldn't finish the question.

"I don't know, sir. Just get here."

The line went dead.

I pressed the accelerator harder. Watched the speedometer climb past ninety.

*Hold on, Elena. Just hold on.*

---

I saw Adrian's car first.

Black sedan. Hazards flashing. Parked crooked across the sidewalk like he'd abandoned it mid-turn.

Then I saw **her.**

And everything inside me **stopped.**

She was on the ground. Curled on her side. Arms wrapped around her stomach.

And there was **blood.**

So much fucking blood.

Dark stain spreading across the pavement beneath her. Soaking through her black leggings. Pooling under her hips.

"**ELENA—**"

I was out of the car before it fully stopped. Running.

Adrian was crouched beside her. Pressing something—his jacket—against her abdomen.

"She's unconscious." His voice was tight. Professional. But I heard the fear underneath. "Pulse is weak. Breathing shallow. Heavy bleeding from—"

"Move."

I dropped to my knees beside her. Hands hovering. Not knowing where to touch without hurting her more.

Her face was so **pale.** Lips bloodless. Dark bruises already forming on her cheekbone. Her left temple.

And her hands were pressed against her stomach. Even unconscious. Still trying to **protect—**

*No.*

*No no no—*

"Elena." I touched her face. Gently. So fucking gently. "Baby, I'm here. I'm here. You're going to be okay."

She didn't respond.

Didn't even flinch.

I looked at Adrian. "Where's the fucking ambulance?"

"One minute."

"She doesn't **have** a minute—" My voice cracked. "Look at her. She's—"

I couldn't say it.

Couldn't acknowledge what the blood meant.

What it **had** to mean.

Instead I pulled off my coat. Folded it. Pressed it against her abdomen where Adrian's jacket was already soaked through.

"Elena, listen to me." I leaned close. Mouth near her ear. "You're going to be fine. The baby's going to be fine. Just hold on. **Please** hold on."

Still nothing.

Her breathing was so shallow I had to watch her chest to make sure she was still—

*Don't think it.*

*Don't fucking think it.*

Sirens. Finally. Getting closer.

"They're here." Adrian stood. Flagged them down.

I stayed on the ground. One hand pressing the coat against her stomach. The other cradling her face.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I'm so fucking sorry. I should've—I should've told you yes. Should've said I wanted the baby. Wanted **you.** I was just scared and stupid and—"

My voice broke.

"Please don't leave me. **Please.** I can't—I can't do this without you."

The ambulance pulled up. Doors flying open.

Paramedics rushing over with a gurney. Equipment.

"Sir, we need you to step back—"

"No."

"**Sir—**"

"I'm her husband." I didn't move. Kept my hand on her face. "I'm not leaving her."

One of the paramedics—a woman with kind eyes and gray hair—crouched beside me.

"Then help us get her on the gurney. We need to move fast."

I nodded. Hands shaking as I carefully—so fucking carefully—slid my arms under Elena's shoulders and knees.

She was so **light.**

Too light. Like she was already—

*Stop.*

I lifted her. Laid her on the gurney.

The paramedics immediately went to work. IV in her arm. Oxygen mask over her face. Hands pressing gauze pads against her abdomen.

"Pulse sixty. Blood pressure seventy over forty. Significant abdominal trauma. Possible placental abruption."

The words didn't make sense.

Or maybe they made too much sense and my brain was refusing to process them.

"Is the baby—" I couldn't finish.

The gray-haired paramedic looked at me. Something in her eyes.

Pity.

*No.*

"We need to get her to NewYork-Presbyterian now." She didn't answer my question. "You can ride with us."

I climbed into the ambulance. Sat on the bench beside the gurney.

Reached for Elena's hand.

It was cold. Limp.

But I held it anyway. Brought it to my lips.

"Stay with me," I whispered against her knuckles. "Please, baby. **Stay with me.**"

---

The hospital was chaos.

Doctors. Nurses. People shouting medical terminology I didn't understand.

They wheeled Elena straight into an exam room. Tried to make me wait outside.

"**No.**" I planted my feet. "I'm her husband. I'm not—"

"Mr. Sterling." A doctor—young, female, competent-looking—stepped in front of me. "I understand. But we need space to work. You can see her as soon as we stabilize her."

"Is she—" My throat closed. "The baby—"

The doctor's expression shifted. Softened.

"We're doing everything we can."

That wasn't an answer.

I knew it wasn't an answer.

But before I could push, Adrian appeared. Hand on my shoulder.

"Let them work," he said quietly. "You can't help her in there."