The Contract Said No Strings Attached (Charlotte) novel Chapter 7

A few months slipped by in the blink of an eye.

When Rebecca went into labor, Isabella was the only one by her side.

Isabella squeezed her friend’s hand, her own palms slick with nervous sweat. “Rebecca, you can do this. I’ll stay right here with you until you’re safe, I promise.”

Rebecca managed a weak nod, her face as pale as a sheet.

The wait outside the operating room felt endless—ten excruciating hours that stretched on and on, fraying Isabella’s nerves.

At last, a doctor emerged, delivering a sliver of hope. “The babies are here. There are four of them...”

Joy exploded inside Isabella—she nearly jumped for joy.

But the happiness hadn’t even had a chance to settle before another voice, tense and urgent, called from inside the operating room. “We’re losing her—she’s hemorrhaging!”

What?

Isabella’s knees buckled; terror flooded her veins, leaving her lightheaded and cold.

Rebecca was rushed into emergency treatment.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension and dread.

“It hurts... oh God, it hurts...”

Rebecca lay on the cold operating table, waves of pain threatening to drag her under. Sweat-soaked strands of hair clung to her forehead as her strength ebbed away. Her eyelids grew heavy; she felt herself teetering on the edge of death.

One doctor, sweat beading on his brow, called out, “Her blood type’s extremely rare. AB negative.”

A nurse replied, panic in her voice, “The blood bank’s empty. There’s none left.”

The doctor barked an order, urgency rising, “Find a donor—immediately! If she doesn’t get blood now, she could bleed out at any moment!”

Every second counted. Any delay could prove lethal.

When Isabella overheard this, it was like being struck by lightning. She stood frozen, lips trembling, whispering, “Rebecca... no, this can’t be happening...”

The world blurred around her as she watched nurses dash out of the room, desperate to find a life-saving donor.

Isabella couldn’t sit still any longer. She burst out of the waiting room and tore down the hospital corridor, her voice hoarse as she yelled, grabbing at anyone she passed. “Please—are you AB negative?”

A passerby shook his head. “Sorry, I’m not.”

She turned to the next. “You—are you AB negative?”

Again, “No, I’m sorry.”

Isabella ran from person to person, frantic, hope slipping away with every “no.”

Rebecca was so young—her best friend. She couldn’t lose her. She wouldn’t let her go, not like this...

Rebecca, by now, had lost so much blood she’d slipped into shock.

The doctors inside looked up in surprise as William entered. “Dr. Thomson? What—?”

He shook his head, signaling them to save the questions. The attending physician quickly filled him in on Rebecca’s condition.

Saving lives was a doctor’s duty.

Without hesitation, William rolled up his sleeve, his voice steady and commanding. “I’m AB negative. Take my blood.”

But as he glanced at Rebecca’s face, he froze—a flicker of shock and recognition passing through his eyes.

Her features were delicate, striking, a perfect symmetry that was both haunting and beautiful. Her sculpted chin, graceful brows, and expressive eyes brought to mind someone he’d only seen in old photographs—his mother, in her youth.

Except the woman before him was even lovelier, more captivating.

William hesitated, a surge of questions stirring inside him.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the four newborns, swaddled nearby, and a shadow of worry flickered across his face.

The transfusion was swift. As the last drops of blood flowed, Rebecca’s eyelids fluttered weakly—she was alive, clinging to life, her breathing shallow but steady. She’d been snatched from the jaws of death.

When it was finally over, William stepped aside, pulled out his phone, and took a steadying breath, fighting to control the tremor in his voice as he called home.

“Dad, Mom. I found Becky.”