Chapter 1
It was the night my little daughter Lily Carter spiked a fever of 103.6°F. At the entrance of the Obstetrics and Gynecology ward, I stumbled straight into my husband, Andrew Carter.
He was crouched down in front of another woman, his palm resting gently over her swollen belly.
His tone held a warmth I had never once heard directed at me. "There's nothing to worry about. The baby's heartbeat is strong and steady. I'm right here."
Tucked tight in my arms, Lily was delirious from the fever, her small face flushed scarlet, her forehead burning like a furnace. She looped her tiny arms around my neck, whimpering weakly. "Mommy... I feel so sick..."
I froze on the spot. A loud buzzing rang in my ears, as if something precious inside me had shattered into irreparable pieces.
Just three minutes earlier, I had called Andrew.
He sent the first call straight to voicemail.
The second call earned me a short text: [I'm in a meeting. Don't make a fuss.]
Glancing down at my phone, I then lifted my gaze to the man standing at the end of the hallway.
Beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, his suit jacket was slung over one arm, the top button of his dress shirt undone.
Weariness and irritation clung to his face, a look I knew all too well, yet the quiet tenderness beneath it was meant neither for me nor for our feverish daughter trembling on the edge of convulsions.
It belonged to the woman beside him, Olivia Lane.
She was his company's newly hired Brand Director.
At the annual corporate gala the month prior, she raised her glass with a smile that seemed all too sweet and innocent, and greeted me as if nothing had ever happened.
Now her pregnancy bump was impossible to hide.
*****
Andrew looked up and caught sight of me in that moment.
All color drained instantly from his face. "Sophie?"
I said nothing.
Lily shivered violently in my arms, her fingers clutching tightly at the fabric of my shoulder. I brushed a hand lightly over her back, then turned on my heel and rushed toward the Pediatric Emergency Room.
Rapid footsteps echoed behind me.
Andrew chased after me, grabbing my wrist in a firm grip. "Let me explain."
I met his gaze, my voice eerily calm. "Let go."
He hesitated for a second but refused to loosen his hold. "It's not what it looks like."
My eyes fell to the hand wrapped around my wrist. The wedding band on his ring finger glinted mockingly under the hospital lights.
A wave of revulsion washed over me, sharp and unrelenting.
I asked quietly, "Then what is it exactly? Were you dropping our daughter off for medical care and conveniently stopping by for her prenatal checkup? Or was your 'work meeting' somehow being held inside the obstetrics ward?"
Passersby in the hallway slowed their steps, stealing curious glances our way.
Olivia also walked over, her face pale with anxiety, one hand protectively cradling her stomach, putting on the perfect act of a frightened innocent.
She said, "Sophie, please don't misunderstand. Mr. Carter was only—"
"Shut up," I said coldly.
My voice was low and steady, yet she clamped her mouth shut immediately.
The cold fury in my eyes must have looked as if I could tear her false mask apart piece by piece.
Andrew's brows furrowed deeply, and he lowered his voice in warning. "Sophie, don't cause a scene here in the hospital."
My daughter was burning up, dangerously close to dehydration.
I'd carried her alone from home to the hospital, dialing his number over a dozen times with no reply. Now I found him at the obstetrics ward, accompanying his pregnant mistress, and he dared accuse me of causing a scene.
A bitter laugh escaped me.
"Fine." I nodded slowly. "Then you stay here with her. I'll take Lily to the emergency room alone."
I wrenched my wrist free of his grasp and hurried away with my daughter in my arms.
This time, he made no move to stop me.
Inside the emergency room, the doctor studied Lily's test results with a grave expression. "She's already had a febrile convulsion. Any later and the consequences would have been severe. Where's the family?"
Holding Lily Carter in my arms, I felt my throat tighten. "I'm her mother."
"Where is her father?" the doctor asked.
I fell silent for a heartbeat, then replied flatly, "He's dead."
The doctor froze briefly, choosing not to press further. He quickly wrote out medical orders, instructing the nurses to wheel Lily away for oxygen therapy, blood work, and nebulizer treatment.
At the payment counter, my hands refused to stop trembling, fumbling uselessly as I tried to insert my bank card.
I keyed in my password wrong three times in a row, and the machine swallowed the card entirely.
Rummaging through my purse, I suddenly remembered Andrew's excuse from days before.
He'd claimed his company was short on cash flow, asking to use our joint bank card temporarily and telling me to rely on PayPal for daily expenses.
My PayPal balance held only 100 dollars.
A nurse called out impatiently from beside the counter, "Ma'am, please settle the payment first."
Gritting my teeth, I opened my phone, ready to sell off my jewelry online to cover the medical bills.
Before I could make a move, a pair of well-defined hands slid a black luxury credit card across the payment counter. "Put the charges on this."