Chapter 2

Vincent said, "Ali! Why didn't you tell me you were in the hospital?" Vincent burst through the door and rushed straight to me, pulling me into his arms like he was afraid I might vanish. His whole body trembled slightly, his face pale with panic, and even his eyes were red. "Why didn't you tell me it was this serious? You didn't answer any of my messages! If I'd known, I wouldn't have stayed late at work. "How can you be so careless? Even if you don't care, I do!" I didn't say a word. My mind was still echoing with the voice I heard from him on the call last night. He carefully packed up my things in the room, then went out to the nurses' station to speak with the doctor and get a full update on my condition. … When he came back and heard how close I came to not surviving the surgery, his face turned deathly pale. Then, right in front of me, he punished himself. "Ali… If something had happened to you, I wouldn't want to live either." I stared at my phone screen, my mind adrift. Vincent thought I was still in shock, too scared to speak. He sat beside my hospital bed and laced his fingers tightly through mine. Using the other hand, he pulled out his phone and made a call. "Cancel everything. I'm not coming into the office for the next few days—I'm staying with my wife. If anything comes up, let Albion handle it. Don't call me." I glanced down at his fingers—pale and long, still wearing the same worn wedding ring I had slipped on ten years ago. For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. He couldn't sit still. Within ten minutes, he had everything arranged and drove six miles to bring me back my favorite chicken soup. I leaned back against the headboard while he sat at the edge of the bed, patiently feeding me one spoonful at a time. Vincent blew gently on each spoonful, tested the temperature with his lips, and then carefully brought it to mine. "Ali, we don't have to rush the baby," he said. "What you went through… it scared me. If I lost you, I don't know how I'd keep going." His voice cracked, his eyes red again. He meant I had suffered too much for him. I finally said, "Vincent, I called you last night." His hand paused midair. Just for a second, a flicker of panic crossed his face—barely there, but I saw it. "I was working late and pulled an all-nighter. I must've missed the call—maybe the new intern picked up. We've been developing a new short-form drama series. You know, the kind with those bossy, controlling billionaire types everyone's obsessed with lately." His explanation was flawless, but he hadn't realized—when something sounded that perfect, it was probably a lie. I lowered my gaze to my stomach. Bruises the size of fists were scattered across my skin. The marks left by countless needles. Tiny scars from all the procedures. My throat tightened, and my eyes stung. … "Sorry to interrupt." The door swung open without warning, and a wave of sweet, overpowering white floral perfume rushed into the hospital room. A young woman, carrying a canvas tote slung over one shoulder, stepped in as if she owned the place. The moment our eyes met, a chill ran down my spine. It was her—the girl from the call last night. She held a fruit basket in her hands, her gaze shining with thinly veiled triumph and challenge. Vincent's expression darkened instantly. He stood up and barked in a low voice, "Didn't I say I'm not coming to the office? Was that not clear enough for you?" She clearly hadn't expected to be scolded. Her eyes brimmed with tears almost instantly—so full, so ready, it was almost impressive how quickly she could turn it on. "Vincent, who is she? She looks so… heartbroken," I asked flatly, my voice laced with mock concern. His expression turned even grimmer. The girl flinched under my indifferent gaze and Vincent's cold silence. She stumbled over her words, voice trembling. "I'm sorry, Mr. Dolton. I just… wanted to see how Mrs… I mean, Ms. Grant was doing. I didn't mean any disrespect." "You should call me Mrs. Dolton," I reminded coldly, my eyes not leaving her face. She didn't say a word. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she sniffled quietly, and then she set down the fruit basket and fled the room, slamming the door behind her. Vincent didn't follow her. Instead, he turned to me, already scrambling to explain. "Ali, don't overthink it. She's just a new intern—Madison Olson. Fresh out of college. She probably doesn't understand boundaries yet. She meant well." I thought, "Meant well?" I looked at the fruit basket she brought—it was packed full of nothing but pears. The smugness on her face might as well have been written in bold letters. It was such a clumsy, pathetic performance, I almost felt embarrassed for her. My body was still weak, and I fell asleep before 8:00 pm. Vincent lay beside me, holding me in his arms, his breathing slow and steady. The room was silent and dark. At some point, I heard a quiet rustling. Vincent thought I was asleep. He carefully slipped out of bed, dressed quietly, and walked out of the room with his phone in hand. As soon as the door closed behind him, I opened my eyes. Two minutes later, I sat up, clutching my swollen belly. The pain stabbed at my sides as I dragged myself into a hospital wheelchair. Inch by inch, I pushed toward the elevator on my own. When the elevator doors slid open and I reached the lobby, panic gripped me. I quickly rolled behind the wall to hide. Vincent was standing right there in the lobby. From my hiding place, I saw him with Madison. His arms wrapped around her, one hand cradling her head with aching tenderness. Right in the middle of the busy hospital entrance, they kissed without hesitation, completely unbothered by the people walking past. Ten whole minutes went by before they finally pulled apart, flushed and breathless, and walked off toward the parking garage hand in hand. A sharp pain tore through my stomach, and my chest tightened until I could barely breathe. It felt like a thousand knives were twisting inside me. Every step I took was hunched and agonizing. I could barely move, but I refused to stop. I had to see it with my own eyes. I had to see the truth of the man I had loved for ten years. In the parking garage, only one car remained with its lights on.