Chapter 5
The morning after Adrian left, I put his wedding ring in the nightstand drawer.
I didn't text to ask whether he had forgotten it.
I simply waited for him to come home.
I wanted to know why a man who had promised to keep things professional with Sophie had failed to mention that the business trip involved only the two of them. I wanted to know whether the ring had truly been forgotten—or deliberately left behind.
Adrian never came home as planned.
A little after four the next afternoon, I finished an emergency procedure and found three missed calls on my phone.
One was from Adrian's company.
I called back.
The person on the other end needed only a few sentences.
The return trip.
A serious car accident.
Both of them had been taken to the hospital.
I stood beside the scrub sink with the phone pressed to my ear. The faucet was still running. Cold water washed over my fingers for several seconds before I noticed.
At the hospital, I saw Adrian first.
Stitches crossed his temple. His left shoulder was immobilized, and abrasions marked one side of his face. The monitor beside him showed stable numbers. One look at his test results told me he wasn't in immediate danger.
Then I asked,
"Where's Sophie?"
No one answered right away.
That was enough.
She was worse.
Piece by piece, I learned what had happened.
After the vehicle hit the barrier and began smoking, Sophie managed to crawl out through the damaged door.
She had been safe.
Then she realized Adrian was still trapped behind the wheel.
She went back.
She climbed into the smoking car, released his seat belt, and dragged him out while he was barely conscious. They had only made it a short distance when another vehicle lost control and struck them.
Sophie took most of the impact.
I was still holding Adrian's chart when I heard that part.
The edge of the paper bent beneath my fingers.
I was a doctor. I had seen enough trauma to understand the weight of one fact: Sophie had already made it out.
She could have stayed safe.
If she had, my husband might have been in another operating room.
Or he might never have reached one.
Every question I had prepared—the trip, the lie, the camera, the ring—suddenly lost its priority.
Not because they no longer mattered.
Because someone was still fighting to stay alive.
Adrian woke that evening.
I stood beside his bed as his eyes opened with difficulty. His gaze found my face first, taking several seconds to recognize me.
Then something returned to him.
"Sophie."
His voice was barely audible.
Before I could answer, he tried to push himself upright. The monitor immediately began protesting.
"Adrian, don't move."
"Where is Sophie?"
I pressed a hand to his shoulder.
"She's still in surgery."
His face changed.
A nurse hurried over to check the monitor. Adrian caught her wrist.
"Save her."
She froze.
His hand was trembling.
"Whatever it costs," he said. "Please save her."