“Jesus Christ…” Ethan ripped off his coat and wrapped it around them. His heart pounded as he called 911. “It’s a woman—unconscious—two babies—Central Park near East Meadow—send help now!”
Minutes blurred. The paramedics arrived, took over, and rushed her and the twins to St. Luke’s Hospital. Ethan followed in his car, ignoring his assistant’s frantic calls. He didn’t know who she was or why she was there—but something in the way she clutched those babies, even half-dead, felt like gravity pulling him in.
Hours later, in the sterile quiet of the hospital hallway, a nurse approached him.
“She’s alive,” she said softly. “Severe hypothermia, but she’ll recover. The twins are weak, but stable.”
