Chapter 2

I didn't stop.

Back in my hospital room, I locked the door behind me.

Last time around, at this moment, I was still crying.

I was crying as I sent message after message to Oscar.

Now, thinking about those texts made me cringe.

I'd texted: [Oscar, it's not that I don't want to help her. I'm scared something might happen to the baby.

[Can you come with me to the prenatal checkup? If the doctor says it's okay, I'll sign the papers.

[I know Georgia means a lot to you. I promise, I'll cooperate.]

Every word was me giving in.

But Oscar didn't reply to any of it.

He only sent one message at three in the morning. [Sign it tomorrow.]

Back then, I signed the papers first thing the next morning.

This time, I sat on the bed and opened my phone's contacts.

After searching through them for a long time, I finally found a name, Nora Perry.

During my seven years with the Powell family, Nora was the only one who dared to chew Oscar out.

And she was the only one bold enough to splash red paint on the Powell family's front door after I died.

On the seventh day after I died last time, Nora marched up to the Powell family's house.

She lugged a bucket of red paint and drenched everything from the front gate to the garage.

The security guards tried to stop her, but she fought off three of them single-handedly. In the end, the cops had to haul her away.

At the police station, Nora only had one thing to say.

She snapped, "My friend was seven months pregnant, and her husband put her on the operating table and let her die. So what if I dumped a few buckets of paint on his house?"

I never even saw that story.

It was only after I got a second shot at life and when my memories started coming back to me that I put the pieces together.

I hit call.

The phone rang twice before Nora picked up.

She said, stunned, "Jennifer? What's with the sudden call? Didn't we last talk before your wedding?"

Her voice hadn't changed a bit, still a little husky, quick, and ending on that signature upward note.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Nora said, "Hello? Jennifer?"

"Nora," I said.

Nora pressed, "What's wrong? You sound off."

I replied, "I'm in the hospital."

There was a two-second pause. Then Nora's voice suddenly turned cold and serious. "Which hospital?"

I said, "St. Johnson Hospital. Twelfth floor, inpatient ward."

Nora nodded. "Wait for me. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

She hung up.

I leaned back against the headboard, placing my hand over my stomach.

The baby gave a gentle little nudge within me, as if it were brushing against my hand, seeking comfort.

Twenty minutes later, Nora burst in through the door.

She was wearing her nurse uniform, her hair tied up in a high ponytail. In her hands were a bag of oranges and a carton of milk.

She didn't bother asking why I was here. Her gaze went straight to my belly.

Then her eyes drifted up and landed on the consent form sitting on my bedside table.

She walked over and picked it up.

She scanned it in seconds.

Then she slapped the consent form down on the table. "Jennifer, is your husband nuts or what?"

Nora handed me an orange, started peeling one for herself, and settled onto the stool next to me.

She snapped, "You're seven months pregnant, and he wants you to give up your liver? I've been a nurse for three years, and I've never seen anything like this."

I replied, "He says it's under control."

"That's crap." Nora balled up the orange peel and chucked it in the trash. "Full anesthesia, slicing you open, messing with your liver.

"When you're pregnant, your blood doesn't clot as it should. If you start bleeding out on the table, they won't have time to save you."

I didn't say anything.

Nora looked at me. "Don't tell me you agreed to this."

I said, "I haven't signed it yet."

"Then don't sign it." Nora pulled her stool closer. "Jennifer, you've been married to him for three years.

"I never asked how things were in that house, because you always smiled whenever you brought it up. I figured things couldn't be that bad."

She stared right into my eyes. "Be honest with me now."

I looked down at the orange in my hand. "Nora, if I die, can you help collect my baby's ashes?"

Nora's hand stopped mid-motion.

The orange she was peeling dropped to the floor.

The whole room went dead silent for a few seconds.

Then Nora stood up and grabbed my shoulders. Her grip was so strong that it made me flinch.

She gritted her teeth. "Jennifer, listen to me. You're not dying. And neither is your baby.

"If he tries to force you onto that operating table, I don't care if I lose my job. I'll make sure the whole world hears about this."

"No." I held her hand, stopping her. "We can't confront him head-on. Oscar's not your average guy.

"If you go up against him, he'll have a hundred ways to get you fired before you even know it."

Nora's mouth fell open, stunned.

She knew I was telling the truth.