They stopped him anyway.
I completed the examination and felt a surge of cautious hope.
Emily’s labor had progressed farther than Voss’s chart indicated.
The baby was low enough that an assisted delivery might be faster than preparing the mansion’s small surgical room for an emergency operation.
But the heart-rate pattern was worsening.
We had minutes, not hours.
I explained the situation to Emily in the clearest language I could manage.
The baby needed to be delivered quickly.
Transport remained the safest destination, but the storm had worsened and the southern access road was now underwater.
The rescue team was attempting to reach a cove below the property by boat, yet no one could promise when they would arrive.
Waiting could cost the baby the time we no longer had.
“Can you do it here?” Emily asked.
“I believe I can.
Clara and I have the equipment we need.
But I need you to understand that this is still an emergency.”
She closed her eyes for one breath.
Then she opened them.
“Save my baby.”
Voss laughed once, without humor.
“You cannot conduct an assisted delivery in a private residence without a full neonatal team.”
“You arranged a private birth without a full neonatal team,” I said.
“That was your decision.
I am dealing with the emergency you created.”
He stepped toward the paper chart.
Damon blocked his path.
“Move,” Voss said.
Damon did not raise his voice.
“You are not taking anything from this room.”
“Those are confidential medical records.”
“They belong with the patient, and they remain untouched until authorities arrive.”
Voss looked toward the windows, perhaps calculating the distance to the gates, the flooded road, and the armed men who no longer considered him part of the household.
I caught Damon’s eye.
“No threats.
No locked doors.
No one harms him.
Preserve the evidence and let the police handle the rest.”
For a moment, I wondered whether a man with Damon’s reputation could accept an order from anyone inside his own home.
Then he stepped away from Voss.
“You heard the doctor,” he told his staff.
“No one touches him.”
That decision mattered later.
At that moment, all that mattered was Emily.
Clara found the equipment in a sealed cabinet.
I checked it myself while Emily fought through another contraction.
Her strength was nearly gone, but fear had sharpened her focus.
“Ryan,” she whispered.
Damon pulled out his phone.
The ordinary network had failed, but the mansion had a satellite connection used for maritime emergencies.
After several attempts, my brother’s face appeared on the screen.
He was sitting inside a rescue vehicle on the far side of the washed-out bridge, soaked and wild-eyed.
“Emily?”
Her face crumpled when she heard him.
“I’m here,” she said.
“I’m trying to get to you.”
“I know.”
