Eleanora Bryan POV:

The room spun. My cheek throbbed. I tried to push past her, to reach Gabe, to scream for another nurse, but my body felt heavy, rooted to the spot.

"He's my son, Brittnie. Please, he's just a child," I pleaded, extending a trembling hand towards her, trying to bridge the chasm of her sudden, irrational rage. "I can explain everything. I'm Eleanora Bryan, Cannon's mother. Gabe is his younger brother."

Brittnie laughed, a harsh, grating sound that clawed at my ears. Her hand lashed out again, a backhand this time, catching me across the mouth. My head reeled, stars exploded behind my eyes, and I stumbled backward, falling hard against the cold, sterile wall.

Pain shot through my hip. My lip split, and I tasted more blood. My vision was blurry, but I could still see Gabe, struggling, gasping for air on the gurney. He was fading.

"Don't you dare," Brittnie hissed, her voice low and menacing, "try to play the innocent victim with me. You think I don't know who you are? You think I don't know what you're doing here, bringing your... your love child into my hospital?"

Love child? My mind struggled to comprehend her words through the haze of pain and fear. Gabe?

I looked at Gabe, then back at Brittnie. Cannon's features, so strong in his older brother, were softened in Gabe. The same dark hair, the same deep-set eyes. He was undeniably a Bryan. Cannon's brother. My son.

"He's not-" I started, desperate to explain, to clarify this insane misunderstanding. But she cut me off.

"Don't lie to me!" she shrieked, her voice echoing off the tiled walls. She grabbed my hair, yanking my head back, forcing my eyes to meet hers. "That boy looks just like him! And you, you tramp, parading around with my engagement gift!"

She released my hair with a violent shove, sending me sprawling to the floor. My head hit the tiles with a sickening thud. The room swam again.

Brittnie stood over me, her chest heaving, her eyes burning with a possessive fire I'd never witnessed before. She was no longer the composed head nurse. She was a madwoman.

She glanced at Gabe, a flicker of something cold and calculating in her eyes. "He doesn't look so good, does he?" she drawled, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "Almost like he's... dying."

Then, with a dismissive flick of her hand, she turned to a group of nurses who had gathered, wide-eyed and terrified, at the periphery of the room. "Leave us," she commanded, her voice regaining its authoritative edge. "This woman is obstructing patient care. I'll handle it personally."

The nurses, clearly intimidated, exchanged nervous glances but quickly dispersed, their footsteps fading down the hall. I was alone with her. And Gabe.

A cold wave of despair washed over me. I had to get help. I had to save Gabe.

My hand fumbled for my phone, a desperate, shaky search. Cannon. I just needed to reach Cannon. He would fix this. He always did.

But my trembling fingers couldn't unlock the screen. My head throbbed, my vision blurred. I could feel Gabe's weak gasps for air, a terrifying rhythm that haunted every beat of my heart.

"He... he's getting worse," I choked out, tears streaming down my face, mixing with the blood from my lip. "Please... the epinephrine."

Brittnie watched Gabe, her expression unreadable. Then she smirked. "Oh, he is, isn't he? Peanut allergies are truly dreadful."

"You... you monster!" I whispered, my voice thick with despair. "He's just a child. What kind of person are you?"

"What kind of person am I?" Brittnie stepped closer, her shadow falling over me. "I'm the woman who's going to marry Cannon Bryan. And you, little lady, are the pathetic side piece trying to ruin it."

She bent down, her face inches from mine, her breath smelling faintly of coffee and mint. "And you know what happens to side pieces who try to steal what's mine?"

I tried to scramble away, to put distance between us, but my limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. Fear, cold and absolute, gripped me.

"Cannon doesn't even know this... this thing exists, does he?" Brittnie sneered, her eyes raking over Gabe's small, vulnerable body. "A little bastard, trying to worm his way into our perfect family."

No. She couldn't believe this. Cannon had posted pictures of Gabe on social media, proud of his little brother. But then, Cannon mostly used social media for medical conferences, or photos of him and Brittnie. He wasn' t the type to detail his entire family history in every post. A sharp, dreadful thought pierced through my panic: Brittnie must have seen the photo of the emerald brooch, and assumed it was for her. She saw the receipt. She knew the brooch.

I had to tell her. I had to make her understand. "Brittnie, no! This isn't what you think! That brooch... Cannon gave it to me for my birthday. It's a family heirloom. Gabe is his brother! My son with my late husband. Cannon' s half-brother."

Brittnie just stared at me, her face a mask of disbelief, then a flicker of something else-anger, then dawning comprehension. But it wasn't the kind of comprehension that brought reason. It was the kind that twisted facts into a new, more horrifying narrative.

"A family heirloom?" she scoffed, her gaze dropping to the brooch again, then back to my face. "Cannon told me he was getting it restored for me. For my engagement ring! He showed me photos of it, talking about our future." Her voice cracked with a twisted blend of hurt and rage. "You stole it. You stole my future!"

With a sudden, violent movement, she ripped the brooch from my coat. The fabric tore, a sharp sound in the sterile silence. She held it up, the emerald glinting under the harsh hospital lights, then clutched it tight in her fist, her knuckles white.

"You're a liar!" she screamed, her face contorted. "A desperate old woman trying to trap my Cannon. And this... this little prop of yours..." She gestured towards Gabe with her free hand, a look of pure loathing on her face. "He's just part of your pathetic scheme!"

Eleanora Bryan POV:

The brooch. Cannon had indeed restored it. It was my husband, Gabe's father, who had inherited it from his mother, Cannon's grandmother. Cannon had given it to me on my last birthday, a quiet dinner at home, a gesture of his enduring love and respect. He said it was time it came back to me, the matriarch. He'd even joked about how Brittnie would probably like the design, but it was mine.

Now, in Brittnie's twisted mind, it was a symbol of betrayal. She had seen the receipt. Cannon must have shown her a picture, perhaps excitedly talking about its beauty, and she, in her possessive delusion, had appropriated it as her own. She believed it was for her. Her engagement gift.

The realization hit me like another physical blow. She genuinely believed I was stealing from her, stealing her man, stealing her future. Her jealousy, fueled by a terrifying insecurity, had morphed into this monstrous delusion.

Brittnie's face was flushed, her eyes wild. "You heard him, you old witch! He loves me! He's going to marry me!" She clutched the brooch so hard I thought she might crush it. "He's never looked at anyone else. Never!"

Her voice went from a shriek to a desperate whisper. "He's mine. He promised. He told me he'd give me everything I ever wanted." She was staring into the middle distance, lost in her own distorted reality. "He can't have a past. Not one that threatens us."

A chilling plan began to unfold in her deranged eyes. She pulled out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen.

"Clabe! Get down to the ER VIP intake. I have a situation. A… pest. And bring your phone. I need you to record something for me."

My blood ran cold. Clabe. Brittnie's brother, the hospital's Head of Security. A thug in a suit, a man known for his brutal efficiency and utter loyalty to his sister. This was bad. Very bad.

"Brittnie, please! Gabe! Look at him!" I cried, crawling towards the gurney, desperate. "He's barely breathing! He needs help now!"

Gabe's small body was wracked with silent tremors, his lips a terrifying shade of purple. His eyes, once bright and full of life, were now half-closed.

"He's dying!" I shrieked, tears blurring my vision. "You're killing him!"

Another nurse, a young woman with kind eyes, peered tentatively around the corner. "Nurse Snow? Is everything... okay? I heard yelling."

Brittnie straightened, her face instantly composed, a professional mask slipping back into place. "Everything's fine, Nurse Anya. Just a hysterical family member. Nothing to worry about."

Anya hesitated, her gaze darting to Gabe, then to my bruised face on the floor. Her eyes widened with alarm. "But... the patient, he looks critical. Should we administer the EpiPen?"

Brittnie shot her a look so sharp it could cut glass. "Are you questioning my judgment, Nurse Anya? Or perhaps you'd like to find another hospital to work at? I'm sure Clabe would be happy to help you pack your things."

Anya flinched. Her shoulders slumped, and she retreated, her face pale. The fear Brittnie and Clabe instilled in the staff was absolute.

"Please, Brittnie," I begged, my voice raw, stripped of all dignity. "I'll do anything. Anything you want. Just save my son. He's so young. He has his whole life ahead of him."

Brittnie stared at me, a slow, malicious smile spreading across her face. Her eyes, filled with an ancient, predatory glee, seemed to rake over Gabe.

"Let him die," she whispered, her voice a chilling caress. "He's a complication. A messy reminder. I don't want to be a stepmother. Especially not to... that."

"No!" I cried, my voice tearing. "He's Cannon's brother! Cannon loves him! He's not just some complication!"

Brittnie's face hardened. She kicked me in the side, a glancing blow, but enough to make me gasp in pain. "Don't you dare talk about 'Cannon's brother' to me. You think I'm stupid? You think I don't know a sugar baby when I see one?"

"I'm his mother!" I screamed, the words tearing from my soul.

Brittnie just laughed, a cold, empty sound. "Oh, you're someone's mother, alright. But not Cannon's. Not anymore. Not in my world."

Eleanora Bryan POV:

"I am his mother!" I insisted, trying to push myself up, my voice hoarse from crying and screaming. "And Gabe is his half-brother! My son!"

Brittnie stared at me, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, quickly masked by rage. But before she could respond, the heavy ER doors burst open.

A hulking figure with a shaved head and a brutal, intimidating presence strode into the room. It was Clabe Snow, Brittnie's brother, the hospital's Head of Security. Two burly guards, their hands resting on their holstered weapons, flanked him. They looked like something out of a bad action movie, not a prestigious hospital.

Clabe's eyes, cold and assessing, swept over me, then landed on Gabe's inert form on the gurney. He held up his phone, the camera lens staring at me like a malevolent eye.

"What's the problem here, Brittnie?" Clabe's voice was a low growl, devoid of any warmth.

I was huddled on the floor, bruised and battered, my coat torn, my hair disheveled. I must have looked like a wild animal.

Brittnie immediately softened, adopting a pitiful, injured tone. "Oh, Clabe, thank goodness you're here. This... this woman," she gestured vaguely at me, "she's a stalker. Cannon's secret mistress. She tried to force her way in, claiming this child is his. She's delusional."

My blood ran cold. A stalker? A mistress? My mind reeled.

Clabe's gaze lingered on me, a sneer twisting his lips. "This old hag? Cannon's mistress? Please. He has better taste than that." He turned to Brittnie, a possessive glint in his eye. "You should know, sis. You're the only woman for Cannon."

He spat the words "old hag" like venom. The guards behind him chuckled.

"She's trying to manipulate him, Clabe," Brittnie continued, her voice dripping with false concern. "She probably thinks this... boy... will get her a payout. She's a gold digger."

A gold digger? My head swam. I'd raised Cannon alone, sacrificing everything for his education, his future. Now I was a gold digger?

Brittnie' s eyes met mine, a triumphant, malicious glint in them. She knew she had me.

Clabe gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Alright, Brittnie. What do you want me to do with this... distraction?"

Brittnie's smile widened, a truly terrifying sight. She strolled towards me, stopping just inches away. She leaned down, her voice a chilling whisper. "Cannon called me this morning, complaining about his mother. Said she was getting difficult." She paused, letting the words sink in. "He said he wished she'd just... disappear."

My breath hitched. Cannon would never. He loved me.

Brittnie straightened, her voice regaining its sugary sweetness. "But I'm a kind woman, Eleanora. I'm willing to overlook your... indiscretion. For Cannon's sake."

She reached out, grabbing a handful of my hair, yanking my head back. My scalp screamed in protest.

"You're going to record a video for me," she hissed, her eyes burning with triumph. "You're going to confess everything. That you're Cannon's secret mistress. That this boy isn't his. That you're a homewrecker, trying to break up our engagement."

My mind screamed in protest. Humiliation. Public shaming. Everything I held dear, reduced to this.

"No!" I cried, struggling against her grip. "I won't! This is insane!"

She tightened her grip, her fingers digging into my scalp. "Oh, you will. Or your little 'son' here," she gestured to Gabe, who lay motionless on the gurney, "will simply... stop breathing. And it will be your fault."

Her face was inches from mine, her breath cold and venomous. "You'll tell the camera that you apologize for trying to ruin Cannon and Brittnie's beautiful relationship. You'll say you'll never bother him again. And you'll hand over that brooch as a sign of your repentance."

The brooch, still clutched in her fist, flashed under the harsh lights. It was her leverage. Her twisted trophy.

"Do it," Clabe barked, his phone still aimed at me, recording my humiliation. "Or the kid gets no help."

My eyes darted to Gabe. He was so still. Too still. His chest barely rose and fell. His small hand, which had gripped mine so tightly just hours ago, lay limp on the sheet.

My stomach churned. My pride, my dignity, my entire being screamed in protest. But Gabe. My baby.