Gabriel's Obsession

Midnight Agony and New Lives

The vastness of the mansion had never felt as suffocating as it did tonight. Amelia lay in bed, her hands resting on her swollen belly, the rhythmic ticking of the bedside clock filling the silence. Gabriel's absence weighed heavily on her. He had warned her earlier that work would keep him late, perhaps even until dawn, his voice tinged with exhaustion. She had nodded in understanding, swallowing her disappointment, knowing that his responsibilities stretched beyond their marriage.

But knowing and feeling were two different things.

She had grown accustomed to his presence, to the way his warmth beside her offered comfort against the loneliness that often crept into her nights. Now, the mansion's empty hallways echoed with a silence that made her feel like a ghost wandering through its vast, unfamiliar corridors. Even Gabriel's father and brothers had left to handle pressing family matters. The west wing—where her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law resided—felt worlds away, their presence distant and unwelcoming.

Just as she shifted under the covers, hoping to coax herself into sleep, a sharp, sudden pain seized her abdomen.

Amelia gasped, her fingers clutching at the sheets as a wave of discomfort rolled through her. At first, she dismissed it as the usual aches of pregnancy, but when the pain returned—stronger, deeper—her breath hitched.

Then, another wave.

And another.

Panic surged through her veins. No, no, it's too soon. It can't be happening now.

Her heart pounded as realization dawned—contractions.

Fear gripped her. She wasn't due for another month, but the pain was unmistakable. Her body was telling her something, demanding action. But she was alone. Gabriel wasn't here. There was no one to hold her, to guide her, to tell her everything would be alright.

A strangled whimper escaped her lips as she forced herself upright, the weight of her belly making movement slow and painful. She tried to breathe through the contractions like she had read in her books, but each step she took was a battle. Her legs trembled beneath her as she staggered out of the room, one hand bracing against the wall for support.

She needed help.

With Gabriel gone, there was only one place she could turn to.

The west wing.

Her breath was ragged by the time she reached the first door. Summoning what little strength she had, she knocked, desperation laced in every rap against the wood.

Silence.

Her chest tightened. She knocked again, harder this time. "Please," she whispered, barely able to hear her own voice over the thunderous pounding of her heart.

Still, no response.

Swallowing back a sob, she turned towards the only other option—her mother-in-law's room.

Summoning her courage, she knocked, her knuckles trembling. A minute passed, each second stretching unbearably. She knocked again, harder, more urgent.

Finally, the door creaked open.

Courtney stood before her, dressed in an expensive silk robe, her expression pinched with irritation. Her narrowed eyes swept over Amelia's disheveled state before she sighed dramatically. "What is it now, Amelia? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Amelia clenched her jaw against another wave of pain, her breath shaky as she stammered, "I—I think I'm having contractions."

Courtney arched a brow, arms folding across her chest. "And?"