Chapter 248: Catherine Holloway Was Getting a Facial at the Spa

Catherine Holloway was getting a facial at the spa when the call came in. She ripped off the mask and grabbed her purse, storming out without hesitation.

"If anything happens to my grandson, that bitch will pay!"

Her stilettos clicked urgently down the hospital corridor. She shoved the ER doors open, her gaze sharp as a blade.

"Doctor! How's my grandson?"

The physician in a lab coat adjusted his glasses. "You're the family? The fetus is perfectly healthy. The mother just experienced Braxton Hicks contractions due to emotional stress."

Catherine's tense shoulders finally relaxed. Then her eyes turned icy as she glared at Paige Lawson curled up on the hospital bed.

"Useless. Can't even carry a child properly."

Paige clenched the sheets. A simple argument with Grant had triggered sudden cramps. Now, publicly humiliated by her mother-in-law, her cheeks burned with shame.

"I'm sorry, Mom—"

"Silence!" Catherine snapped. "One more stunt like this, and you'll regret it."

The doctor cleared his throat awkwardly. "The mother's emotional state requires—"

Catherine scoffed and strode out, heels echoing. Paige stared at the ceiling, silent tears streaking down her face.

Meanwhile, Clara Whitmore was recording lab data when her phone buzzed. The screen read "Prof. Miriam Caldwell."

"Clara, are you free next week? An old friend wants to meet you."

The professor's voice sounded hoarse. Clara's pen stilled, instantly sensing something wrong.

"I'll come by next week."

After hanging up, she pulled up her schedule. She could ask a junior to cover her afternoon lab—she needed to see Miriam now.

The jingle of keys startled the housekeeper in the kitchen.

"Oh! Clara, why—"

"Where's the professor?" Clara cut straight to the point.

A cane tapped from the inner room. Miriam leaned against the doorframe, fleeting panic in her eyes.

"I thought we agreed on next—"

Clara rushed forward, steadying the unsteady woman. She knelt and gently rolled up Miriam's pant leg.

Swollen, deformed joints came into view.

"This is your 'minor issue'?" Her voice trembled.

Miriam sighed. "Just old age..."

"To the hospital. Now." Clara's tone brooked no argument.

The housekeeper hovered with a fruit platter, hesitating. Miriam met her student's stubborn gaze and finally relented with a smile.

"Fine, fine. But let me finish editing this paper—"

"No!" Clara dialed 911. "Who'll take care of the lab flowers if you collapse?"

Sirens wailed in the distance. Miriam shook her head ruefully, but her eyes glistened with touched gratitude.