Chapter 2 - THE UNEXPECTED VISITOR
The house was a tomb of expensive furniture and broken promises.
Ryan’s car was long gone,
cruising toward the heights of Aspen,
leaving behind a wreckage he refused to acknowledge.
But the universe has a strange way of balancing the scales.
Caleb Parker,
Ryan’s younger brother,
was driving through the neighborhood.
Caleb was the "disappointment" of the family,
a man who had chosen being a paramedic over joining the family real estate empire.
Ryan hadn't spoken to him in six months,
ever since Caleb had called him out on his arrogance.
Caleb was only there because he had forgotten his mountain bike in Ryan's garage.
He had a spare key,
one Ryan had forgotten to take back.
He pulled into the driveway,
noticing the house was dark.
He frowned,
knowing Ryan was supposed to be leaving for his trip.
He stepped out of his truck,
the cool Colorado air biting at his neck.
As he approached the garage,
he heard it.
A faint,
rhythmic sound.
It wasn't a scream.
It was a baby’s cry,
but it was thin,
like paper tearing.
Caleb’s instincts,
honed by years of trauma calls,
screamed at him.
He didn't go to the garage.
He ran to the front door.
He unlocked it,
the heavy oak swinging open to reveal a hallway that smelled of copper.
“Emma?”
he shouted.
No answer.
The crying was coming from upstairs.
He took the stairs two at a time,
his heart hammering against his ribs.
He reached the nursery door.
The sight that met him was a nightmare carved in reality.
Emma lay in a pool of dark crimson,
her face as white as the snow in the mountains.
She was motionless.
The newborn,
Ethan,
was purple from crying,
clutching the bars of his crib.
“God,
no,”
Caleb breathed.
He didn't freeze.
He couldn't.
He dropped to his knees beside Emma,
his fingers searching for a pulse.
It was there.
Faint.
Thready.
Like a ghost tapping on a window.
“Stay with me,
Emma,”
he commanded,
his voice deep and authoritative.
He pulled his phone out,
dialing 911 while simultaneously applying pressure to the source of the bleeding.
He used a decorative baby blanket,
ruining the delicate embroidery with the reality of survival.
“This is Caleb Parker,
off-duty paramedic,”
he told the dispatcher.
“I have a PPH victim,
hypovolemic shock,
unconscious.”
“Send an ALS unit to 442 Oak Lane.”
“Now!”
He looked up at the crying infant.
“Hang on,
little man,”
he whispered.
“I’ve got you both.”
He worked with a feverish precision,
elevating her legs,
monitoring her shallow breaths.
Minutes felt like hours.
The sirens finally wailed in the distance,
a high-pitched promise of hope.
As the paramedics burst into the room,
Caleb didn't step away.
He helped them bag her.
He helped them load the stretcher.
He watched as they whisked her away,
the red lights reflecting in the nursery windows.
Then he turned to the crib.
He picked up the shivering baby,
wrapping him tight.
He looked at the floor,
at the blood,
and then at the discarded phone on the rug.
The screen was still lit.
It showed Ryan,
laughing in Aspen.
Caleb’s jaw tightened until it ached.
He took the phone.
May you like
He took the baby.
And he left the house to its ghosts.
