Isaac stared at the doctor like he could burn through him.
The doctor stood stiff, waiting for the decision, his hands clenched around the clipboard. Isaac’s head was a drum.
He thought of the first time he met Isabel. She had been small and fierce and stubborn in a way that had irritated him at first.
He had wanted a child then, always said he wanted an heir, someone to carry his name. He remembered telling himself she was useful for that reason.
He didn’t just want a child. He wanted her. He wanted them. Two lives on the line and he could not breathe.
“Do something,” he said suddenly, the sound rough. “You do not have time to stand there and stare.”
The doctor’s jaw worked. “Sir, we need stability. We need to prepare the OR...”
“Prepare it faster,” Isaac snapped. “Get me the su
