Chapter 1
After my husband’s mistress and I were injured in the same car crash, the hospital had only one fully equipped operating room available, and he chose to save her first.
The doctors told Daniel I was the one more likely to die.
My husband thought I was exaggerating my injuries because I was jealous of his mistress.
Apparently, even dying looked like another attempt to compete for his attention.
I woke to Daniel’s voice beyond the curtain.
“You already started treating Sophie. Finish.”
A doctor answered sharply.
“Her bleeding has slowed. Your wife’s hasn’t.”
Every breath sent pain through my stomach.
Through a gap in the curtain, I saw Daniel kneeling beside Sophie’s bed. Her blue dress was stained with blood. Her fingers were locked around his wrist.
I had helped her choose that dress.
Three months earlier, Daniel introduced Sophie as the younger sister of an old friend. He asked me to help her settle into the city.
I did.
Then she began calling my husband whenever she was lonely, frightened, or sick.
When I asked Daniel to set boundaries, he called me jealous.
On the night of the crash, he asked me to drive Sophie home.
The last thing I remembered was checking the driver’s-side mirror before changing lanes.
The road behind me looked empty.
Then another car slammed into my door.
“What does it mean that Evangeline is worse?” Daniel asked.
“She’s bleeding internally,” the doctor said. “We need the main operating room for her.”
“And Sophie?”
“We’ll continue treating her here.”
Sophie tightened her grip.
“Please don’t leave me.”
The monitor beside me began beeping faster.
Maya, one of my closest friends at the hospital, noticed my eyes were open.
“Evangeline? Don’t move.”
I tried to say Daniel’s name.
Only a weak sound came out.
He looked through the curtain.
Our eyes met.
For one foolish second, I felt relieved.
He could see me now. He would understand that I wasn’t pretending.
Daniel released Sophie’s hand and took one step toward me.
I lifted my fingers.
Sophie began to cry.
“Daniel, please.”
He stopped.
Daniel was listed as the person authorized to make medical decisions for both of us.
“Dr. Carter,” the doctor said. “Your wife is crashing.”
Daniel looked at the monitor.
Fear entered his face.
Then his expression hardened.
“Evangeline, this isn’t another argument about Sophie.”
“This is internal bleeding,” the doctor snapped. “She isn’t performing for you.”
The alarm screamed.
The doctor ordered Sophie moved out of the main room.
Daniel refused.
“She has a clotting disorder. Moving her could make her bleed again.”
“And your wife is bleeding now.”
“You have another room.”
“It isn’t properly equipped.”
“But you can operate there.”
“With greater risk.”
Daniel looked from Sophie to me.
“If Evangeline waits?”
“She could die.”
There was nothing left for him to misunderstand.
Still, he returned to Sophie’s side.
“Evangeline is a nurse,” he said. “She’ll understand.”
Something inside me broke before the doctors ever touched a scalpel.
They were wasting what little time I had left arguing with a man who had already decided my life mattered less.
“Stop.”
The doctor leaned closer.
“Evangeline?”
“Stop asking him.”
I gripped his sleeve.
“Use the other room. Save me with what you have.”
He nodded.
“Move her.”
As they pushed me toward the elevator, Daniel called my name.
I didn’t answer.
A nurse ran toward us holding a laboratory report.
“Wait!”
She slipped inside before the doors closed.
The doctor looked up.
“What is it?”
“Evangeline’s pregnant.”
The elevator became silent.
“How far along?”
“Approximately eleven weeks.”
The child we had spent two years waiting for was fighting to survive inside the wife Daniel had chosen to leave behind.