Chapter 3

Forty-eight hours after the doctor’s warning, Callum promised nothing would make him miss my second scan.

He had taken the day off and put my medical papers beside his keys.

“Today is about you and the baby,” he said. “No one else.”

I wanted to believe him.

We were about to leave when the doorbell rang.

Sloane stood outside holding a container of soup. She wore a cream sweater, fitted jeans and polished ankle boots with narrow heels.

“I came to apologize.” Her gaze dropped to my stomach. “The baby comes first now. I would never ask Callum to choose me over his family.”

“You didn’t have to come,” I said.

“I’ve already caused enough trouble.”

She refused to enter, insisting she only wanted to deliver the soup. When she turned toward the front steps, I noticed how carefully she placed her injured foot.

“Let me help you,” I offered.

Sloane gave me a sad smile. “I’ve taken enough from you already.”

She pulled her arm away.

Her heel caught the edge of the step.

Sloane fell hard.

Her injured leg struck the concrete, and her scream cut through the quiet street. Callum rushed past me and dropped beside her.

Within seconds, her knee began to swell.

“Call 911,” I said.

“No.” Sloane grabbed Callum’s wrist. “Please, no ambulance. I can’t be trapped inside one again. It’ll feel like the fire.”

Then, as if realizing she was holding him, she released him.

“Take Claire to her appointment,” she whispered. “I’ll wait for someone else.”

Callum slid one arm behind her back.

“I’ll drive you.”

I stared at him. “Callum.”

“I’ll get her checked in and come straight to the clinic.”

“You said nothing would make you miss this.”

“She can’t even stand.”

“The doctor said my pregnancy could be dangerous.”

“You’re standing right now.”

Pain tightened low on my right side.

“You told me this situation would never happen,” I said. “It’s happening now. We both need you.”

“Sloane is actually hurt.”

“And we don’t know if our baby is safe.”

His expression hardened.

“Stop using the baby to make this a competition.”

He lifted Sloane into his arms and carried her to the car.

I watched them leave together.

Then I picked up my purse and reached for my phone to order a ride.

The pain struck before I could unlock the screen.

It tore through my right side so violently that my knees buckled. I caught the kitchen counter, but the room tilted around me.

Something warm ran down my leg.

Blood.

I called Callum.

The phone rang once before the call was declined.

I tried again.

He rejected it faster the second time.

A message appeared.

Stop using the baby to make me feel guilty. I’ll call you when Sloane is settled.

My hands shook as I typed.

I’m bleeding. We may be losing our baby.

I stared at the words.

Then I deleted them, one letter at a time.

Calling him again would only waste time I might not have.

I dialed 911.

By the time the emergency crew arrived, I was lying beside the kitchen counter, struggling to stay conscious.

A firefighter-paramedic knelt beside me.

“Claire, I need you to keep your eyes open.”

His voice was calm as he checked my pulse and called for immediate transport.

Then he looked at my face more closely.

“Ms. Bennett?” he said. “I’m Noah Grant. Lily’s father. You saved my daughter.”

I tried to answer, but darkness swallowed the room.

The ambulance doors closed.

My husband had chosen the woman who saved him over our child.