Previously
Killian Blackwell overhears Owen Hughes discussing Eleanora Winter's secret identity and confronts her, realizing she is indeed the soldier Elliot Winter who saved him. Despite his anger at her recklessness and the military law she broke, he feels a complex mix of fury and guilt when she apologizes and submits to his judgment.
At the violent pounding on the door, Eleanora rushed down to the ground floor.
She had not expected the man who had caused such a stir earlier that afternoon to reappear before a single day had passed.
He spoke in a somber voice, looking unusually pale—whether from the driving rain that soaked him or the shadows of the night.
“!”
The moment she heard those words, Eleanora hurried to pack her medical bag.
Clutching it close to her chest so the rain would not ruin the medicine inside, she dashed toward the stables.
Though the distance was not far, riding would be much faster than running on foot.
Eleanora called out from atop the horse.
When Killian hesitated for a fleeting moment, she shouted again,
Gritting his teeth, Killian vaulted onto the horse behind her in a single leap.
He seized the reins from her grasp as if snatching them away and spurred the horse forward.
Tearing through the pouring rain, Eleanora reached the estate and went straight to Emily's bedchamber under Killian's guidance.
Owen sat beside the bed, clutching her trembling hand and repeating her name over and over. The moment he caught sight of Eleanora, he scrambled to his feet.
As Owen dashed out to fetch the water, Eleanora began examining Emily.
Her face was as pale as a wax figure, stripped of every trace of color.
Cold sweat drenched her forehead and the nape of her neck, sticking strands of hair to her skin.
Most alarming of all was her breathing. She panted with an open mouth as though there was never enough air, yet lacked the strength to take a deep breath; her chest barely rose and fell.
Out in the corridor, Owen ran into Killian pushing a basin cart filled with clean water.
Owen stared at him in astonishment, and Killian barked in a tone reminiscent of his military days,
Owen hurried to wheel the cart into the room.
Killian lingered by the doorway, leaning against the wall and exhaling sharply. He should have hired at least one woman to help—any woman.
In fact, perhaps if he had never come here in the first place, the Hugheses would not be facing this ordeal.
Killian turned his head and peered through the cracked door. Eleanora, looking more serious than anyone present, was drying her hands.
She stated her intent, but Emily was in no condition to respond.
Swallowing dryly, Eleanora slid her hand beneath the sheet.
Emily’s pained groan reached her, but Eleanora focused every nerve into her fingertips.
She should have felt the firm, rounded contour of the baby's head. Yet what met her touch was…
‘It’s soft…’
It was not a head.
( ‘…A breech presentation?’ )
Eleanora’s face drained of color at once. Seeing her reaction, Owen blanched as well.
Before he could ask what had happened, she signaled with her eyes for him to follow her and stepped out of the room.
Killian’s eyes widened as he watched Eleanora emerge so abruptly, followed closely by a frantic Owen.
Eleanora whispered, her voice heavy,
She swallowed hard before continuing,
A hopeless sigh slipped from Owen’s lips. Killian was no less shaken. It meant, quite plainly, that the child could suffocate and die.
Eleanora bit her lip.
Highbury was far away. In this heavy downpour, the round trip would take at least five hours.
Owen cried out in desperation. Eleanora closed her eyes tightly, then opened them.
In that brief second, every trace of anxiety vanished from her gaze, replaced by a cold, sharp resolve.
Drawing a short, deep breath, she added firmly,
At those words, Killian’s eyes trembled as though struck by a tremor.
‘Don’t worry. I will save him, without fail.’
It was the very same attitude. That reckless daring, pledging to save a human life.
That unwavering, arrogant certainty falling from her lips in a situation where no one could predict the outcome.
Yet he saw something now that he had missed back then. Her slender fingertips were trembling.
It was impossible that she wasn't terrified. It was impossible that she didn't want to run away.
Yet she was suppressing that dreadful terror—one she might not even be able to bear—solely to reassure those around her.
Watching Eleanora shoulder that unavoidable burden, pretending everything was fine despite it all, Killian felt his own breath hitch.
And there was only one thing he could do for her.
The second her answer fell, he bolted—faster than anyone else could run.
Believing he would return safely with the doctor, Eleanora turned her focus back to what needed to be done.
She grasped Owen firmly by the arm as he covered his mouth, struggling to catch his breath.
She spoke with steely composure,
After preparing hot water, clean gauze, and everything needed to receive the child, she continued to monitor Emily's condition and issue instructions.
Owen wept helplessly as he watched his wife writhe in agony, but he raised his voice in haste, trying to keep her conscious.
Emily twisted from the sheer agony, biting her lip. Eleanora shouted in alarm,
Emily endured the pain again and again for the sake of her child. But it was not a state she could endure indefinitely.
Patience alone was not enough to make things better.
Four agonizing hours of Emily’s living hell ticked by. Still, nothing changed.
( ‘If this keeps up, both of their lives will be in danger.’ )
The thought of preparing for the worst-case scenario crossed her mind, and her brow furrowed deeply.
‘No… no. I can’t lose hope.’
The right moment had to come.
Clinging to that conviction, Eleanora turned to Owen.
Though his face was strained with a tension she had never seen on him even during the war, he nodded.
Even as she prayed desperately, Eleanora never took her eyes off Emily.
Time slipped away…
Suddenly, the lower half of the baby's body slipped out into the world along with the remaining amniotic fluid.
At Eleanora’s cry, a spark flashed in Owen’s eyes, which looked like those of a man who had been tortured or deprived of sleep for days.
He did exactly as she had instructed, pressing down on the lower part of his wife’s abdomen from above.
Pressing down so forcefully on the body of his beloved wife was agonizing for him. But he had no choice if he wanted to save the two people he loved most.
Eleanora slid her hands into the birth canal.
Emily's screams, Owen's desperate pleas begging his wife to hold on just a little longer, and the pressure of seconds ticking by with fatal weight all bore down upon Eleanora's chest.
Even so, she did not waver.
She supported the infant’s head and eased it out into the world.
The tiny body settled into Eleanora’s hands, meeting the air of the outside world for the very first time.
A radiant smile of joy blossomed across her face.
Yet that joy did not last.
For the baby, whose face was cyanotic from suffocation, remained limp and motionless… and did not cry.