Darrell pointed toward the doctor's retreating figure and smiled at me, his expression warm and tender.
"Beverly, those two hours I was gone? I went to find you a doctor. That was Dr. Finch, the one who just left. He was named the top OB-GYN surgeon in the capital this year. You're in good hands. He'll make sure you and the baby are safe."
He sat down on the edge of the bed and held the pill to my lips.
"Take this. It'll keep you comfortable for the three days before surgery. Be good. Take it."
I picked the pill from his palm, slipped it into my mouth, then grabbed the glass of water and drank the whole thing down.
Something loosened behind Darrell's eyes. Relief, settling into satisfaction.
He tucked the blanket around me, gave me one last gentle smile, and left.
The second the door clicked shut, I dug the pill out from under my tongue and wrapped it in a tissue.
Whatever this was, Darrell, I would make you taste it a thousand times over.
"Darrell..."
A woman's coy, whining voice drifted through the door, pulling me from my thoughts.
"I feel like you're distracted this time. Did something happen? Don't tell me you went soft and you're actually going to let that old hag have the baby."
"Don't worry, Becca." Darrell's voice was low, soothing, dripping with tenderness. It seeped through the crack in the door. "You're the only one I've ever loved. Why would I let her keep it?"
"It won't be much longer now. She's almost bled dry. I've cleaned up the company, moved everything over. Once she loses this baby, I'll use her inability to carry a child as grounds for the divorce. Then I'll take you, and we'll disappear."
"Darrell, you've sacrificed so much. For me and our son, you kept up the act for eight years. You even lost two fingers..."
"It's nothing. If it weren't for those two fingers, she never would have believed me so easily. For you and our boy, any price is worth paying."
The rest of their words blurred into static.
A deafening roar filled my skull.
I lay frozen on the hospital bed, rigid as if lightning had split me open.
Eight years ago, in that pileup on the highway, Darrell had crawled through the wreckage to pull me free. He'd lost two fingers saving my life. That was why I fell in love with him.
But the crash itself had been a setup.
Cold sweat broke across my spine.
The sharp buzz of my phone cut through the haze. A message from that number.
We've landed at the capital's civilian airport. Two hours out.
I stared at the screen, and some small measure of calm returned. They were ahead of schedule. Much faster than planned.
I had barely finished typing my reply when Darrell burst through the door with the unfamiliar doctor in tow, panic carved across his face.
"Beverly."
He rushed to my side and seized my hand. His eyes were wide with alarm.
"Dr. Finch reviewed your scans. The baby's condition might be deteriorating. We need to move your surgery up."
My mind flashed to the moment just before the message arrived. Those faint, muffled sobs from Rebecca Simmons outside the door.
My heart clenched.
Rebecca must have pressed him. She wasn't willing to wait.
So Darrell moved the timeline up. For her.
This hospital belonged to Darrell's company. Every department, every nurse, every orderly answered to him. If I went into that operating room now, my baby and I were as good as dead.
I grabbed Darrell's wrist before he could wheel me toward the door.
When my eyes met his, the tears came on their own, spilling down my cheeks.
"Darrell."
I locked my other hand around the door handle and held on with everything I had.
"Every checkup has been perfect. You saw the scans yourself. Everything was fine. How could something go wrong all of a sudden?"
