Chapter 5
"Is that the only pathetic trick you learned after a year in there?" Stanley asked.
Lillian pressed closer into him, sobbing softly. "Stanley, maybe we should take Zoe to the hospital. She looks like she's really in pain."
"That's enough," Stanley said with a sigh. "Stop feeling sorry for her. I'll take you back to your room. You shouldn't have to watch this kind of madness and make yourself sick."
With that, he turned and walked away, Lillian still in his arms.
The sound of his footsteps faded down the hall. Zoe lay on the cold floor, her vision blurring, unable to find any light.
With the last of her strength, she fumbled in her pocket and pulled out her phone. Her fingers shook as she tapped the screen—once, twice, three times—before finally managing to dial 911.
The ringing stopped. A voice came through, urgent and sharp.
Zoe tried to speak, trying to force her swollen throat to make a sound, but nothing came out.
The hallway was silent except for her faint, wheezing breaths and the soft beeping of the phone as it sent out her location.
Her vision went black. Her arm slipped from her face and hit the floor. The dim glow of the phone screen lit up her twisted, purple face.
From the master bedroom at the end of the hall, she could still hear Lillian's soft cries and Stanley's gentle, comforting voice.
The sounds drifted farther and farther away until, finally, she closed her eyes, and everything went quiet.
*****
The heart monitor kept up a steady beep as Zoe's eyelids fluttered open. All she saw at first was white.
A thick, rigid tube was lodged in her throat, making it impossible to speak.
She slowly turned her head and took in the hospital room. No one was sitting by her bed. A clear liquid dripped quietly through the IV line beside her.
She tried to move her fingers. Pain shot through her left pinky, sharp and familiar.
An IV needle was taped to the back of her right hand, the skin underneath bruised a deep purple where the needle had been.
The door opened, and a middle-aged doctor in a white coat walked in with a stack of papers.
He set them down on the nightstand, then leaned in to check her pupils and the monitor.
"You're awake," he said, letting out a small breath. "You're lucky to be alive."
He pulled over a chair and sat down, flipping through the papers in his hand.
"You had a severe allergic reaction," he said. "When you were brought in, your blood pressure was dangerously low, and your throat was so swollen that it had almost completely closed your airway.
"If you'd come in ten minutes later, you wouldn't have made it."
He paused, then looked up at her, hesitating. "There's something else."
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Your blood test and ultrasound showed you were about four weeks pregnant.
"Because your body was already so weak, and with the shock from the allergic reaction, you started bleeding internally. You lost the baby."
Zoe stared at the ceiling, her expression blank.
The tube in her throat kept her silent. Slowly, she lifted her hand and rested it on her lower abdomen. It was flat.
She counted back the days in her head. The timing lined up. It must have been from that last month at Tranquil Grace Academy.
Stanley had come once to sign some paperwork about his company shares.
Afterward, he'd stayed the night.
That was the night everything happened.
This was the third time she had lost a child.
She closed her eyes, feeling completely drained.
The first time had been in their second year of marriage. She had been so happy that she could barely breathe. She ran to find Stanley with the pregnancy test clutched in her hand. Two clear lines stared back at her.
He'd been in his study, sitting behind his desk. Lillian was across from him.
The moment Lillian saw the test, her eyes reddened. She lowered her head and bit her lip so hard that it turned pale.
Stanley noticed. He tossed the test onto the desk, his voice flat, stripped of any warmth. "Lillian's been part of the Thornton family for three years and still hasn't had a child. It's always been a sore spot for her.
"How do you think she feels seeing you pregnant?"
Zoe stood there, stunned. "What do you mean?"
"Get rid of it. You can have another one after Lillian has good news," he said, like it was nothing.
They had fought hard that night. She threw things and cried until her voice gave out. But the next day, they still dragged her to the hospital.
The surgical lights were blinding. The medication dulled her body, but not enough to erase everything.
She bit her lip until it bled just to keep from crying.
The second time came the next year. She was too afraid to even buy a test, so she went to a small clinic for a blood test instead. She hid the report deep in the back of her closet.
Three days later, the report was gone.
The next morning, Stanley set down a cup of liquid in front of her. It was dark brown, bitter even from the smell.
"Drink it." He didn't explain.
Lillian stood in the doorway, wringing her hands, tears streaming down her face.
"Zoe, I'm so sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have told Stanley about the test. I just kept thinking about Luke being gone, and how I still don't have a child, and I couldn't help it..."
Zoe stared at the cup, then picked it up and drank it all in one go.