Chapter 3

The next morning, Amanda was waiting at the entrance of the fertility center.

She wore a cashmere coat, not a hair out of place. When she saw me climb out of the cab, her first words weren't about my father.

Instead, she asked, "What are you wearing?"

I glanced down at my puffer jacket. After a night at his bedside, the cuffs were wrinkled, and the collar still smelled of hospital disinfectant.

Amanda took half a step back in disgust. "We're seeing the doctor in a minute. You represent the Bennett family's image."

Beside her, Edward said nothing.

Chloe was there too, hugging a folder to her chest, her smile sweet and obedient. "Emily, Mr. Bennett worried you'd forget the paperwork, so he had me organize it."

I stared at the medical file in her hands. My name was printed on the cover.

Inside was every test I'd ever done. Blood panels, the tubal X-ray, and the full hormone workup. Every page laid me out like a defendant awaiting a verdict.

For three years of marriage, Amanda had insisted the Bennetts couldn't go without an heir. Edward said he was busy and told me to get tested first.

During my first tubal X-ray, the pain drained the color from my face.

I called him, but he was in court, and his reply was one line. "Every woman goes through it."

That day, I walked out of the hospital alone, one hand on the wall, then crouched by a flower bed and vomited until I shook.

Now he'd handed my medical records to an intern, like passing off an ordinary case file.

In the doctor's office, Amanda grabbed a seat first.

"Doctor, can Emily have children or not? We're not an ordinary family. We can't wait forever," she demanded.

The doctor looked up at me. "Both spouses need testing. Where's the husband's report?"

Edward slid a report across the desk. "I've been tested. Normal."

The paper looked brand new, stamped by an outside hospital.

The doctor skimmed it and frowned. "This is from a year ago. I'd recommend a retest."

Amanda jumped in. "My son is perfectly healthy. The problem is obviously her."

There were nurses in the office, and patients lined up at the door. Every pair of eyes landed on me.

It felt like being stripped bare.

Edward sat there, drumming his fingers on the desk. "Let's follow the doctor's plan. Stop wasting time."

Chloe handed me a pen. "Emily, sign here, and they can set your stimulation protocol today."

The page was packed with risks. Ovarian hyperstimulation. Fluid in the abdomen. Anesthesia for the egg retrieval.

I held the pen, my fingertips numb.

My father was still hooked to an IV, his folder of wage records lying on the caretaker's chair. And my husband was pressuring me to hand over my body, like closing a case he had to win.

The doctor spoke gently. "Did you not sleep last night? You look pale. This can wait a couple of days."

Edward glanced up. "Her health's always been like this. Dragging it out only makes it harder."

Amanda gave a cold laugh. "You're 30 now and still acting like a little girl? The Bennett family can't afford to wait."

The pen tip punched through the paper.

I set it down. "I'm not signing today."

The office went quiet.

Edward turned to look at me. "What did you say?"

"My dad's in the hospital. I don't have the strength for this," I said.

His face darkened. "Emily, stop using your dad as a shield."

A shield.

The word made my vision go black at the edges.

Chloe murmured, "Emily, Mr. Bennett's been contacting specialists about your IVF for weeks. You're putting him in a hard spot."

As she spoke, she slipped the men's report back into her folder. The motion was quick. Quick enough to suggest she didn't want anyone looking too closely.

I stared at her hands. "Those are my medical records. Who said you could touch them?"

Chloe froze, and her eyes reddened instantly. "I'm sorry. I only wanted to help."

Edward stood. "Emily, don't take it out on people who have nothing to do with this."

I lifted my head. "My dad fainted at your firm, and you called it making a scene. I won't sign for IVF, and you say I'm using him as a shield. Edward, what exactly is my family to you?"

Amanda slammed the table. "If your parents had any sense, they wouldn't bother Edward at a time like this.

"A freight driver with unpaid wages should go to the Department of Labor. What does he want with my son? Do you know what Edward's time is worth? Could your family ever pay it back?"

Someone at the door sucked in a breath.

I curled my fingers until my nails bit into my palms.

Edward didn't stop her. He only pushed the consent form back in front of me.

"Sign it." Two words, like a command.

I looked at him and suddenly remembered the day before our wedding, when he stood at my family's door and bowed to my parents.

"Mr. and Mrs. Carter, I grew up without a father. Emily gave me a home. From now on, her family is my family," he said.

That night, my mother brought out the only new quilt in the house for him. My father went into town for two pounds of beef and wouldn't touch a bite, piling all of it into Edward's bowl.

The cruelest thing about people is how righteous they can sound while forgetting every kindness.

The form slid closer. Edward's voice dropped. "Don't make me embarrass you in public."

I smiled. "When have you ever spared me?"

Amanda shot to her feet, hand raised to slap me.

The blow never landed. A man reached in from the doorway and caught her arm.

"This is a hospital, not your living room." His voice was smooth, but it carried weight.

I turned and saw Lucas Warren. My high school classmate is now a fertility doctor at the city hospital.

He glanced at me, and his gaze settled on my trembling hands. "The patient's mental state isn't suitable for starting a cycle today."

Edward recognized him, and his expression turned colder. "Dr. Warren, this is a family matter."

Lucas released Amanda's arm. "In this hospital, she's a patient first."

Chloe bit her lip. "Mr. Bennett, we should go. Let's not embarrass Emily any further."

She made it sound like consideration.

Edward kept his eyes on Lucas. "Since when are you two so close?"

The question stung worse than Amanda's slap would have.

I pushed the consent form back. "Edward, I'm not signing."

He gave a short laugh. "Fine. Then don't come to me about your dad's case either."

He took the medical file. As he turned, he shoved the folder of wage records into Chloe's arms, right in front of me.

"Toss it," he said.

The folder hit the trash can with a dull thud.

I bent down to dig it out. The pages scattered, and my father's careful handwriting spilled across the floor, every trip logged stroke by stroke.

March 17. Rain. Night route, 370 miles.

April 29. Landslide on the mountain road, took the detour, no sleep for two days.

May 13. Called Emily. Didn't tell her how tired I was.

Words struck in my throat.

Edward stood at the door, watching me coldly. "Come home when you've thought it through."

As the elevator doors closed, I was on my knees, gathering up my father's hard-earned money page by page.