Chapter 1

The surgical lights above me were blinding.

The anesthesiologist's voice sounded distant, like it was coming from the far end of a tunnel. "Mrs. Jackson, relax. We're going to perform an emergency C-section."

Cold anesthetic flowed into my spine. Within moments, everything below my waist went numb, but my mind stayed terrifyingly clear.

I could feel the scalpel slicing into my skin. There was no pain. I only felt a strange, unsettling tug deep in my muscles.

Voices buzzed around me, sharp and urgent.

"Blood pressure?"

"Eighty over fifty. It's still dropping."

"Heart rate?"

"One forty. Fetal heart rate is dropping, too."

"Start transfusion. Now."

The operating room erupted into controlled chaos.

My eyes stayed open, fixed on the blinding light above me.

My mind drifted back to thirty minutes earlier, when my husband, Joe Jackson, burst into the ward with bloodshot eyes.

He grabbed the doctor's arm, veins bulging across the back of his hand. His voice was hoarse, breaking apart with panic. "Save her. I only want her alive. Do you hear me?"

The doctor tried to steady him. "Mrs. Jackson has a rare blood type. She's hemorrhaging, and the fetus is already hypoxic. We need to operate immediately, but the risks—"

"I don't care about the risks," Joe roared, like a wild animal barely under control. "Save her. I don't need the baby. I only want Vera alive."

At that moment, I thought he cared about me.

I thought he cared about his wife, the woman who had been married to him for two years, carrying his child, now lying on an operating table, bleeding out because of a car accident.

Then the operating room doors swung open again.

Joe's assistant, Harry, rushed in and leaned close to whisper something urgently into his ear.

Joe's face darkened instantly. "What did you say? Elaine was in an accident, too? Where is she now?"

"In the operating room next door," Harry said. "She was in the same car when the crash happened. She went into premature labor. Massive hemorrhage. She's also Rh-negative, but the blood center is low on supply—"

Joe turned sharply toward me on the operating table.

I'd never forget the look in his eyes, pain flashing through them before it slowly settled into something cold, almost cruel.

"Take her blood," he said indifferently, pointing at me.

"What?" The doctor was stunned.

"I said, take Vera's blood and give it to Elaine," Joe repeated slowly and clearly. "They're the same blood type. Do it now."

"Mr. Jackson, your wife is losing blood fast. She's barely hanging on. How can we take more from her?" the doctor said.

"Do it," Joe snapped, cutting him off. "Nothing is happening to Elaine's baby. That's my child."

"But Mrs. Jackson—"

"Do it."

Joe lunged forward, grabbing the doctor's collar, his eyes blazing with madness. "If anything happens to Elaine, I'll make sure every single one of you pays for it."

The doctor paled under his pressure. "But—"

"No buts." Joe let him go and turned toward me on the operating table.

I looked at him, gathering the last bit of strength I had, and shook my head faintly.

No, Joe. Our child was dying, too.

However, he avoided my gaze and told the doctor, "Do it."

Then he stormed out of the operating room without looking back.

He rushed straight to the next room to check on Elaine Adams, the woman he'd always loved. He left me there, alone in the suffocating silence.

The doctor looked at me with sympathy and helplessness. "Mrs. Jackson, I'm sorry. We can't afford to cross Mr. Jackson. Please hang in there."

The anesthesiologist upped the dose.

My consciousness was slipping away, but the shrill alarms, the doctors' frantic shouts, and the icy sensation of my blood draining away felt painfully clear.

"Blood pressure sixty over forty."

"Her pulse is weak."

"No fetal heartbeat."

"Hurry. Keep the transfusion going and call the blood center. We need more Rh-negative blood."

"It's too late. Her heart is about to give out."

"Get the defibrillator ready."

"On my count. One, two, three. Clear."

My body convulsed violently, then slammed back onto the table. For a moment, it felt like my soul was about to tear free from my body.

A bunch of memories flashed in front of me.

Two years ago, Joe slipped a ring onto my finger on our wedding, smiling gently. He said, "Vera, I'll love you for the rest of my life."

A year ago, when I found out I was pregnant, he gently touched my belly for the first time; his eyes lit up. "Wow, I'm going to be a dad."

Three months ago, when Elaine came back, he picked her up from the airport and returned with a faint lipstick mark on his collar.

I asked him about it, and he snapped at me, "She's a friend. Stop imagining things."

A month ago, I ran into him at Elaine's prenatal appointment. He explained, "She's all by herself. I want to help."

A week ago, I found him in the study, lost in thought, staring at Elaine's ultrasound picture.

When he saw me, he hurriedly put it away, mumbling, "Just curious."

Yesterday, I asked him if he could come home early tonight, since today is our wedding anniversary.

He replied, "Busy. Got a client to meet."

And then, that so-called client ended up in a car crash together with him.

Now, he was in the next room, staying by the side of the woman he's always loved and their child, while I was lying here on the operating table, my blood almost drained, and our child was dead.

How ironic. Joe, was this your promise of "loving me forever"?

Before everything faded to black, I thought I heard a weak, newborn wail coming from next door.

It was loud, powerful, and brimming with the promise of new beginnings.

However, all that remained in my world was frozen silence.

"Her heartbeat stopped."

"Charge again."

"On my count. One, two, three. Clear."

*****

After what felt like an eternity, I opened my eyes.

All I could see was the hospital ceiling and the IV drip slowly falling.

My body felt like it had been crushed and put back together. Every part of it hurt, especially my lower belly. It felt hollow and freezing.

"Vera, you made it." Nina Burke, my best friend, who'd been sitting by my bedside, shot up, her eyes red and her voice trembling.

"The baby—" I said, my voice completely hoarse.

Nina started crying right away. She held my hand tightly, shaking. "Vera, it's okay. You're young. You can still have kids later."