Chapter 2

The ER lights were harsh white, and the atmosphere turned ice cold.

James' gaze cut into me like two frozen blades.

I saw shock in those eyes, and anger, and something else I couldn't read that looked like pain.

The nurse beside him noticed the tension and spoke up carefully, "Dr. Cooper, your pen."

James ignored her. He threw down the broken pen and grabbed my wrist. His grip was brutal, like he wanted to crush my bones. "What did you say?"

His voice was deadly quiet, like the calm before a storm. "Say it again."

His grip hurt, but I forced myself to meet his eyes. "I said the father is dead. Did you hear me clearly, Dr. Cooper?"

I put extra emphasis on his title.

It was a reminder for both of us that we meant nothing to each other anymore.

He was a doctor now, someone essential and untouchable. I was just another patient's family member begging him to save my child.

James' chest heaved as he stared at Ethan in my arms. Ethan's face was scrunched up from the fever, but James could see himself in every feature.

"What's his name?" James asked.

"Ethan Davis," I answered, my voice cold.

"He has your last name?"

"What did you expect?" I shot back. "That he'd take the last name of a dead man who disappeared for four years?"

Each word stabbed at him, and I knew I was being cruel.

But compared to what he did to me four years ago, this was nothing.

Four years ago, he did the same thing.

He disappeared from my life without warning, without a word, without any explanation.

All he left me was a signed divorce agreement and a one-month-old pregnancy.

I searched everywhere for him. I called, but his phone was off. I went to his house, but his parents said they didn't know where he was. I went to his school, but his classmates said he'd taken a leave of absence.

He vanished completely.

Now he had the nerve to look at me like I'd betrayed him?

"Dr. Cooper, let go of me," I said, trying to pull away.

"You better give me an explanation," he said through gritted teeth, and his grip on my wrist tightened.

"An explanation?" I laughed, and tears stung my eyes. "You're the one who owes me an explanation. You disappeared for four years, James. What gives you the right to question me now?"

My voice wasn't loud, but everyone around us could hear every word.

The nurse at the front desk and a few other families stared at us.

Behind his mask, James' face went pale with fury, and he seemed to realize he'd lost control. He released my wrist slowly, leaving red marks around my skin.

"Get him admitted," he ground out and turned toward his office, his back rigid.

The nurse watched him leave, then turned to me with hostile, curious eyes. "Didn't know you and Dr. Cooper were acquainted," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she filled out the admission forms.

I ignored her.

I carried Ethan and took the forms to pay and finish the paperwork.

By the time I got him settled into a room, it was already past four in the morning.

They gave him medicine for the fever and started an IV, and he finally fell into a deep sleep.

I stayed by his bed and watched him sleep, unable to close my eyes all night.

The doctors came for morning rounds the next morning, and James was leading them.

He wore a fresh white coat and gold-rimmed glasses, and he'd changed his mask. He looked composed and professional, like last night's outburst had never happened. A group of interns and nurses trailed behind him.

He walked straight to the bed, picked up the chart, and asked in a clinical tone, "Any fever overnight? How's he doing?"

"No fever since midnight," I said calmly. "He hasn't woken up yet."

He nodded and checked Ethan's forehead, then listened to his heart and lungs. After the exam, he explained the case to his interns. He didn't look at me once, treating me like any other patient's family member.

When the rounds ended, he left with his team.

The room fell quiet again, and I let out a breath.

I was about to sit down when my phone rang with an unknown number. I hesitated before answering.

James' cold voice came through the line. "Come to my office."

Then he hung up before I could refuse.

I watched Ethan sleeping in the hospital bed, but eventually I got up and left the room.

James' office was at the end of the hallway.

I pushed the door open, and he was standing by the window, maskless.

Sunlight outlined his sharp profile, and I could see his high nose bridge and thin lips.

He looked the same as I remembered, but the boyishness was gone, and he seemed more mature and harder now.

He heard me and turned around.

I closed the door, and he asked, "The kid. He's mine."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement.