Chapter 5

A few weeks later, Sarah was at work, deep in a complicated trauma case, when her phone rang. Ethan.

"Sarah! You need to get to Lakeshore Private now!" His voice was sharp with panic. "It's Chloe! She' s having a severe allergic reaction. Anaphylaxis."

Sarah' s own pain, her own humiliation, was instantly overshadowed by professional concern. "What happened? What did she ingest?"

"I don't know! Something... she thinks it might be something you left at the apartment. Some kind of nut oil in a lotion or something. She' s deathly allergic."

Sarah frowned. She was meticulous about her things, especially knowing Ethan' s medical history. "I don't use anything with nut oils, Ethan."

"Just get here!" he snapped. "The doctors say she needs blood. A specific type. AB negative. They' re critically low. That' s your type, right? You told me once."

Yes, it was her type. Rare. The same as Chloe' s, apparently. A chilling coincidence.

"Ethan, I..."

"Now, Sarah! She could die!" He hung up.

Sarah felt a wave of nausea. He hadn' t asked if she was okay, if she was busy. He just demanded. For Chloe.

She drove to Lakeshore Private, a high-end hospital where Ethan' s firm was a major donor.

She found Ethan pacing outside a private room, his face pale.

"Thank God you' re here," he said, grabbing her arm. "They need your blood. Now."

"Ethan, wait," Sarah began, her heart pounding. There was something she needed to tell him, something monumental. "I need to tell you..."

"No time!" he cut her off, pulling her towards the room. "Chloe' s fighting for her life because of you!"

"Because of me?" Sarah was stunned. "How is this my fault?"

"She said she used some hand cream from our bathroom this morning. It must have been yours!"

"That' s impossible, Ethan, I don't..."

He wasn't listening. He was already talking to a young doctor, a resident by the look of him. "This is my wife, Sarah Miller. She' s AB negative. She' s here to donate."

"Ethan, I can't," Sarah said, her voice trembling. "I can't donate blood right now. I' m... I' m pregnant."

She' d found out two days ago. About three months along. A secret joy, a tiny spark of hope in the darkness of her marriage. She' d wanted to tell him, hoping, praying it might be a turning point.

Ethan stared at her. Disbelief, then rage, contorted his features.

"Pregnant? You' re lying! You' re always making excuses! You' re just jealous! You want Chloe to die!"

"No, Ethan, it's true! I have the doctor' s report in my bag. It' s dangerous for me, for the baby!"

He ignored her pleas. He turned to the young doctor, his voice hard with authority. "My wife is being hysterical. She' s a nurse; she knows this is safe. Do it."

The doctor looked hesitant, glancing from Ethan' s furious face to Sarah' s desperate one.

"Sir, if she' s pregnant, especially in the first trimester..."

"She' s not pregnant!" Ethan roared. "She' s trying to sabotage Chloe! I am a major donor to this hospital. Are you going to refuse a direct request that could save a patient's life?"

The doctor visibly wilted under the pressure.

Sarah tried to pull away, but Ethan' s grip was like iron. Two nurses appeared.

"Ethan, please!" she begged, tears streaming down her face. "Don't do this!"

He wouldn' t look at her. His face was set, cold.

She felt a sharp prick in her arm. Sedation.

Her last conscious thought was of Michael' s heart, beating in the chest of this monster. And of the tiny, new life inside her, now in terrible danger.

The stress, the blood loss... it was too much.

Hours later, she woke up in a different room. Empty. A deep, cramping pain in her abdomen.

A doctor, an older woman with kind eyes, told her. She' d miscarried.

The baby was gone.

The emotional and physical trauma was a gaping wound. This was it. Her breaking point.

Ethan had made his choice. He had chosen Chloe over her, over their child.

There was nothing left to save.