Ambulance Races Through the Streets of Florence at High Speed

The ambulance sped through the streets of London, its siren wailing like a desperate cry. Inside, Emily lay unconscious, caught between life and death. The lead doctor, a silver-haired man named Dr. Bennett, checked her pulse and barked orders to the nurses:

“Faster! Keep the pressure steadydont let her lose any more blood. The baby still has a chance!”

Beside her, Rosalind wrung her hands, whispering prayers. Her heart twisted with guilt for not stepping in sooner, back at the manor. She remembered Isabellas icy stare, cold as a knifes edge, and finally understood the truth.

**The Emergency Room**

When Emilys stretcher was wheeled into the emergency room, Richard rushed at the doctors, his eyes red with tears and rage.

“Please, save her! Her and our baby I cant lose them!”

Dr. Bennett gave him a stern lookthe professionalism of a man who knew there was no time for drama.

“Mr. Whitmore, you need to wait outside. Were doing everything humanly possible.”

Richard stood frozen for a moment, then crumpled onto a bench in the hall. He buried his face in his hands, and for the first time in his life, the confident man felt the ground give way beneath him.

Behind the closed doors, the medical team fought for Emilys life. Her breathing was shallow, but her heart still beat. The baby, however, was in critical condition. Machines beeped rhythmically, the tension unbearable.

**The Waiting Room**

Isabella strode into the hospital, flanked by two close friends summoned to play the role of concerned witnesses. Her face was stone, but her trembling voice fooled those around her:

“That poor girl how could she slip like that? I only wanted us to be a united family.”

Rosalind, standing in the corner, glared at her with smouldering hatred. If shed had the courage to speak up then, maybe it all couldve been stopped. But fear of Isabellas powerher influence in the city, her ability to ruin livesparalysed her.

**Richard and His Mother**

“Mother!” Richard snapped, standing abruptly. “Where were you when this happened? Rosalind says you were right beside her!”

Isabella touched his arm with false tenderness:

“My love, I was upstairs. I only saw her fall It all happened so fast. God, if only I couldve caught her!”

Fake tears streaked her cheeks, but Richard wasnt sure what to believe. A small, deep crack had formed in his trust.

**News from the Operating Room**

After hours of tension, the doors swung open. Dr. Bennett, his face lined with exhaustion, approached Richard.

“Mr. Whitmore, your wife is alive. It was a hard fight, but weve stabilised her. However the baby”

His words faltered, and Richard understood without needing more. His world collapsed. He swayed, bracing himself against the wall, tears streaming.

“Doctor I need to see her.”

“Shell be moved to a room soon. She needs rest. But we noticed marks on her chest and arms. They dont look like theyre just from a fall. Ill have to report this.”

Isabella, overhearing, stiffened for a split second. Then she recovered, embracing her son with false warmth:

“Dont listen to them, darling. You know how quickly rumours spread. You just need peace right now.”

**Emilys Awakening**

Hours later, Emily opened her eyes. Pale and barely breathing, she blinked up at Richard. He kissed her hand, fighting back tears.

“Emily my love youre here with me.”

She stared at him, then her eyes filled with tears. She tried to touch her stomach, but she understood everything from his gaze. A broken sob escaped her.

“Our baby”

Richard pulled her close, whispering,

“Well get through this together. I have you, and thats what matters.”

But in Emilys heart, another pain took rootnot just the loss of their child, but the certainty that behind the tragedy stood the woman who shouldve protected her.

**Rosalinds Confession**

Days later, Rosalind couldnt stay silent any longer. She found Emily alone in her room and spoke in a trembling voice:

“Mrs. Emily you need to know the truth. You didnt just fall. Mrs. Isabella she pushed you. I saw everything.”

Emily felt the blood drain from her face. It was the truth shed suspectednow confirmed.

“Rosalind why tell me only now?”

“I was afraid. You know the power she has in this city But I cant live with this guilt anymore.”

Emily gripped her hand and, with surprising strength, whispered,

“I swear to you, she wont get away with this.”

**The Investigation**

Days later, the British police opened an official inquiry. The doctors reports, the marks on Emilys body, and Rosalinds testimony formed a damning picture.

Isabella, however, wasnt one to surrender easily. Her lawyers had already prepared defences, and influential friends tried to bury the scandal.

Richard was torn between love for his mother and the brutal truth. Emilys silent suffering haunted him, and Rosalinds words were impossible to ignore.

**The Final Confrontation**

One evening, Richard confronted Isabella in the parlour, where she sat, as elegant and cold as ever.

“Mother, tell me the truth. Did you push Emily?”

Isabella lifted her chin.

“My son, everything I did was for you. She wasnt worthy of you. I saved our family.”

Richard stared at her in horror.

“No you destroyed everything. You killed our child. And for that, Ill never forgive you.”

His words struck like lightning. Isabella remained still, but her eyes burned with helpless hate.

**Epilogue**

The trial that followed shook London. Newspapers splashed daily updates about “the Whitmore tragedy,” and people debated it in pubs and streets.

Emily, though fragile, found the strength to testify. Rosalind backed every word. The doctors presented irrefutable proof.

Isabella Whitmore, once feared and respected, was sentenced to years in prison for attempted murder.

Richard and Emily, scarred for life, found solace in each others arms. They vowed to start anew, refusing to let the pasts shadows ruin their future.

But deep in Emilys heart, the wound of their lost child would never heal. And every time she walked up the marble stairs of their home, she felt a cold shiverremembering that a jealous mothers hate could cut deeper than any blade.