Chapter 1

I was eight months pregnant, and I had kept it completely hidden.

I blocked my ex on social media, moved, changed my number, and cut off all contact.

Then my water broke, and an ambulance rushed me to the operating room.

The anesthesiologist pulled down his mask.

It was Henry Carter, the father of my baby, the one I had broken up with eight months ago.

He looked down at my belly, and his lips moved.

I could read it clear as day: he was counting.

Eight months. Eight months since the breakup.

He raised his head and smiled at me.

That smile sent a chill down my spine.

I struggled to sit up and said, "Nurse, I need another doctor. I am allergic to this anesthesiologist."

The nurse pressed me back down and said, "You are well into transition. Do not make a scene."

It was over. There was nowhere to run, in every sense of the word.

Here's what happened on March 15, 2024, in the obstetric operating room at the Northgate General Hospital.

I'm Sophie Lane, 28, a social media influencer, and about to be a single mom.

I'd kept my pregnancy a secret for eight months.

I hid it from my parents, all our mutual friends, and especially from the guy who knocked me up.

My plan was foolproof: I'd have the baby alone and raise it alone. When the child turned eighteen, I'd tell the father that he had an adult child, that no child support was required, and that he should start saving for the wedding.

My plan had been perfect and flawless until today.

I was at home, having a steak for dinner. On my third bite, my stomach suddenly cramped, and then a gush of fluid followed. I looked down and saw my pants were soaked; it was not urine but my water breaking.

I calmly set down my fork, picked up my phone, and dialed 911. In my best professional voice, I said, "Hello, this is a 36-week pregnant woman, my water broke. The address is..."

Then, still keeping my cool, I texted my bestie, Emily Grant: [Emily, I'm going into labor. If I die on the operating table, remember to delete my browser history.]

Emily replied instantly: [Wait, you're not due for another ten days. Tell me which hospital you're going to, and I'm coming.]

I didn't get a chance to reply because the ambulance arrived too quickly, so quickly that I could not even change into a clean pair of pants.

As they wheeled me into Northgate General Hospital, one thought kept running through my mind, 'This hospital...Wait, was this the hospital where Henry Carter worked?'

No, that was impossible. There were four major hospitals in Northgate. Even if I ended up at this one, with so many anesthesiologists on staff, what were the chances of running into him?

I kept psyching myself up in my head, ' I'm gonna be okay. It's only a matter of odds, less than one percent.'

Then the nurse wheeled me into the operating room, and there stood a man in scrubs and a mask. Only his eyes were visible, and I knew them all too well: deep blue, with outer corners that tilted up like a cat's.

I used to say he had eyes that could seduce anyone, and he'd always reply with a straight face, "Don't go crazy in public."

Now those eyes locked onto me as I was wheeled in, first resting on my face, and then sliding down to my belly.

That round, eight-month belly was impossible to hide.

The air seemed to freeze as he slowly pulled down his mask. As I had feared, it was Henry Carter.

The face I'd imagined stabbing with a thousand needles in my mind.

He had a sharp nose, thin lips, and a jawline so chiseled that it could cut glass.

He was seriously handsome and seriously a jerk, but that's not the point right now.

The real issue was that he stared at my belly, his lips moving without a word.

I could see him silently counting: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight.

Eight months, we had broken up eight months ago.

He slowly lifted his eyes to meet mine, and then he smiled.

Henry was usually cold as ice, but when he smiled, it was like the first snow thawing.

But right now, that smile made me feel like I was the snowman melting under his gaze.

"Sophie," he called my name in a low voice that carried a calm so unsettling it made my skin crawl. "Long time no see."

At that moment, my survival instinct peaked.

I kept a straight face and said, "Who are you? Sorry, I have face blindness."

Henry stared at me, totally speechless.

The nurse glanced at him, then at me. "Ms. Lane, this is Chief Carter from Anesthesiology. He's in charge of your anesthesia today."

"No thanks," I said, trying to sit up. "I want a natural delivery without any anesthesia."

The nurse gave me a puzzled look and said, "This is an emergency C-section. You're well into transition and the baby's breech. Anesthesia is required."

"Then get me another anesthesiologist," I shot back.

"Chief Carter is the best anesthesiologist in our hospital, and he's the only one on shift today."

Henry finally spoke, his voice flat and calm. "Relax; I'll keep it strictly professional."

He took a step closer. Goosebumps shot up all over me, not from pain but from sheer terror.

"Sophie," he leaned in, his voice low enough for only me to hear. "How far along are you?"

I clenched my jaw. "None of your business."

"Is that so?"

His eyes stayed on my belly for a couple seconds before looking up, with that smile still on his lips, a smile that made it hard to breathe.

"Let me rephrase," he said. "How many months has it been since we broke up?"

"..."