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My best friend, Jessica Lane, and I married into the Carter family the same year, and we both got pregnant around the same time. She married the younger brother, Lucas Carter, a well-liked police officer, while I married his older brother, Ethan Carter, the chief surgeon at our city's top hospital. On our first wedding anniversary, I was on my way home from picking up my prenatal test results when a truck struck my car. I suffered severe lower-body bleeding and lay drowning in my own blood. I reached for my phone and called Ethan over and over, but he hung up each time. After three failed attempts, I dialed my older brother, Alexander Sinclair, instead. Twenty minutes later, three military-style vehicles pulled up to the crash site. The Carters' polished public image shattered completely in that moment.