Chapter 4

My father suffered a severe heart attack and was rushed to Hudson University Medical Center.

I sprinted into the ER like a madwoman, my voice shaking.

"Where is Dr. Cole?"

A nurse pointed toward the surgical wing.

I ran over and caught Ethan just as he was scrubbing in.

"Ethan," I grabbed his arm. "It's my father. You have to do the surgery yourself. Please."

He squeezed my hand, his expression uncharacteristically resolute.

"Don't panic, Claire. I've got this."

In that fleeting moment, he looked like the man who would do anything to protect me.

The surgery began.

I paced the hallway, my palms slick with sweat.

The red light above the OR doors stayed on. Time stretched into an agonizing eternity.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed from the other end of the hall.

A staff member rushed over.

"Maya Hart was injured during an unauthorized simulation. She's hemorrhaging. The blood bank is critically low on O-negative red blood cells, and we've initiated an emergency blood supply protocol."

She paused, catching her breath.

"We're pulling from our reserves and requesting emergency units from regional banks. Mrs. Cole, your records show you're an eligible O-negative voluntary donor."

Before I could even process her words, Ethan burst out of the surgical suite, his scrubs stained with blood.

He looked at me, his eyes wide with frantic desperation.

"Claire..." His voice cracked. "She's in critical condition."

Maya was wheeled down the corridor on a gurney, her face ashen. She weakly grabbed the hem of Ethan's scrubs.

"Dr. Cole... am I going to die?"

Ethan immediately leaned over and gripped her hand.

"No. You're going to be fine."

I stood frozen.

The red light above my father's OR was still on.

My father was in there, fighting for his life.

And my husband was hovering over Maya, acting as if she were the only person in the world he couldn't bear to lose.

"Ethan," I said, my voice dangerously tight. "My father is still in there."

He glanced at me, then stepped past the blood donation coordinator to stand right in front of me.

He closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was a hoarse, desperate whisper.

"I know the donation center can't transfuse your blood directly into her, but the bank is running dry."

His tone was low, laced with a demanding urgency that left no room for refusal.

"Claire, please. Go donate. You're the only hope she has left."

I stared at him.

"My father is in there."

Ethan hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes darting back toward where Maya had been wheeled away.

"Your father has the best team taking over! He won't die. But Maya is hemorrhaging right now!"

"If she dies, I will never forgive myself!"

The surrounding medical staff stared at me, their eyes heavy with judgment.

"Mrs. Cole, Maya is so sweet to everyone. You can't just let her die."

"Exactly. It's just a little blood. It's not going to kill you."

"How can you be so cold-blooded? You can't just watch a young girl die!"

Ethan suddenly stood up straight and roared at me.

"Are you going to save her or not?!"

"Claire, I have never begged you for anything! I am begging you now! Save her!"

In that instant, absolute clarity washed over me.

It wasn't that he didn't know my father was in surgery.

He had already ranked us, and we lost.

I watched him try to twist a completely voluntary donation into a weapon of emotional abuse.

"Do you really think my father's surgery matters less than hers?"

Ethan didn't answer.

His silence was all the answer I needed.

The red light of the OR glared down at us, where my father hung between life and death.

And my husband was on his knees, begging me for another woman.

I stared at the red light for a long time before I finally spoke.

"Fine. I'll donate."

Ethan exhaled a massive sigh of relief, gratitude flashing in his eyes.

But then I finished my sentence.

"After I donate blood, my lawyer will initiate divorce proceedings."

Chapter 4

My father suffered a severe heart attack and was rushed to Hudson University Medical Center.

I sprinted into the ER like a madwoman, my voice shaking.

"Where is Dr. Cole?"

A nurse pointed toward the surgical wing.

I ran over and caught Ethan just as he was scrubbing in.

"Ethan," I grabbed his arm. "It's my father. You have to do the surgery yourself. Please."

He squeezed my hand, his expression uncharacteristically resolute.

"Don't panic, Claire. I've got this."

In that fleeting moment, he looked like the man who would do anything to protect me.

The surgery began.

I paced the hallway, my palms slick with sweat.

The red light above the OR doors stayed on. Time stretched into an agonizing eternity.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed from the other end of the hall.

A staff member rushed over.

"Maya Hart was injured during an unauthorized simulation. She's hemorrhaging. The blood bank is critically low on O-negative red blood cells, and we've initiated an emergency blood supply protocol."

She paused, catching her breath.

"We're pulling from our reserves and requesting emergency units from regional banks. Mrs. Cole, your records show you're an eligible O-negative voluntary donor."

Before I could even process her words, Ethan burst out of the surgical suite, his scrubs stained with blood.

He looked at me, his eyes wide with frantic desperation.

"Claire..." His voice cracked. "She's in critical condition."

Maya was wheeled down the corridor on a gurney, her face ashen. She weakly grabbed the hem of Ethan's scrubs.

"Dr. Cole... am I going to die?"

Ethan immediately leaned over and gripped her hand.

"No. You're going to be fine."

I stood frozen.

The red light above my father's OR was still on.

My father was in there, fighting for his life.

And my husband was hovering over Maya, acting as if she were the only person in the world he couldn't bear to lose.

"Ethan," I said, my voice dangerously tight. "My father is still in there."

He glanced at me, then stepped past the blood donation coordinator to stand right in front of me.

He closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was a hoarse, desperate whisper.

"I know the donation center can't transfuse your blood directly into her, but the bank is running dry."

His tone was low, laced with a demanding urgency that left no room for refusal.

"Claire, please. Go donate. You're the only hope she has left."

I stared at him.

"My father is in there."

Ethan hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes darting back toward where Maya had been wheeled away.

"Your father has the best team taking over! He won't die. But Maya is hemorrhaging right now!"

"If she dies, I will never forgive myself!"

The surrounding medical staff stared at me, their eyes heavy with judgment.

"Mrs. Cole, Maya is so sweet to everyone. You can't just let her die."

"Exactly. It's just a little blood. It's not going to kill you."

"How can you be so cold-blooded? You can't just watch a young girl die!"

Ethan suddenly stood up straight and roared at me.

"Are you going to save her or not?!"

"Claire, I have never begged you for anything! I am begging you now! Save her!"

In that instant, absolute clarity washed over me.

It wasn't that he didn't know my father was in surgery.

He had already ranked us, and we lost.

I watched him try to twist a completely voluntary donation into a weapon of emotional abuse.

"Do you really think my father's surgery matters less than hers?"

Ethan didn't answer.

His silence was all the answer I needed.

The red light of the OR glared down at us, where my father hung between life and death.

And my husband was on his knees, begging me for another woman.

I stared at the red light for a long time before I finally spoke.

"Fine. I'll donate."

Ethan exhaled a massive sigh of relief, gratitude flashing in his eyes.

But then I finished my sentence.

"After I donate blood, my lawyer will initiate divorce proceedings."