The next eight hours were a blur of blinding pain, frantic breathing, and the crushing grip of Caleb’s hand.
We were in the master bedroom of the manor. Maya had transformed it into a pristine, sterile delivery room. The fire was roaring in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the chaos.
I was lying in the center of the massive bed, drenched in sweat, my hair clinging to my face.
"You're doing perfectly, Elena," Maya encouraged from the foot of the bed, her sleeves rolled up, her face a mask of calm professionalism. "She is in the perfect position. The contractions are two minutes apart. You are almost there."
"I can't," I sobbed, completely exhausted, my head thrashing against the pillows. "Caleb, I can't do it. It hurts too much."
Caleb was sitting on the edge of the bed right
