Chapter3

At 3 p.m , Rosa called.

"Molly spiked a fever. A hundred and four. Evelyn, you need to get here."

I ran straight from the medical affairs office, my suspension notice folded in my pocket.

When I reached the ward, Molly was curled up in bed, shivering violently.

Her face burned an unnatural red, her lips cracked and peeling.

She tried to call out to me, but only a hoarse, breathless sound came out.

I held her. She was burning up. Rosa stood by the bed, watching the monitor.

"Oxygen’s at eighty-eight. Still dropping."

"What happened? She was fine this morning."

Rosa checked the chart. "Low-grade fever started this morning. I recommended a sterile isolation transfer at noon, but..." She hesitated. "Family wouldn't sign."

"Who wouldn't sign?"

"Margaret said to wait."

I looked down at Molly. She had her stem cell harvest yesterday. Her bone marrow was empty; her immune system was practically zero. A fever was the first alarm of a deadly infection.

"She needs isolation immediately," I told Rosa. "I'll go sign."

I hurried out. Margaret was sitting on a hallway bench, slowly eating from a takeout box.

"Sign the papers. Molly's at a hundred and four, she needs isolation."

She chewed, swallowed. "The doctor said wait."

"Wait for what? Her immunity is wiped out—"

"Evelyn." She set her chopsticks down. "Stop being so dramatic. Children aren't that fragile. An isolation room is a thousand dollars a day. Have you done the math? We still owe medical bills for Noah."

"Is Molly's life not worth it?"

She glanced up. "Molly is a girl. She's tough. Noah is different. He's the eldest grandson. Daniel's only heir."

I stared at her under the glaring lights. "And if she can't handle it?"

Margaret took a sip of her tea. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

I went back to the ward. Molly was vomiting over the edge of the bed, yellow bile and undigested breadcrumbs staining the sheets. She slumped back, pupils unfocused. Rosa tapped the monitor. Oxygen at eighty-five.

I called Grant. It went to voicemail. I called again; he rejected it.

The third time, he answered. "Molly's crashing. Come back and sign the papers. Now."

Silence. Then, a muffled woman's voice in the background. "Grant—"

He hung up. Eleven seconds.

"Oxygen's eighty, Evelyn," Rosa called out.

I bolted. The nurses said he had left for a family emergency. His phone was off. He wasn't anywhere in the building.

I took a cab to his apartment. It was getting dark. I took the stairs to the sixth floor. At his door, two pairs of shoes sat on the mat: his loafers, and a pair of stilettos.

Serena's.

I raised my hand to knock, but the voices bled through the thin wood. Muffled, but crystal clear.

"...Your mother put on a good show today," Serena was saying. "When she said 'girls can handle it,' your wife went perfectly pale."

"Yeah." Grant's voice. "Did she sign?"

"No. Your mom stalled. Your wife begged her three times, and she just sat there eating an orange."

"...She'll hate my mom when she finds out."

"Let her." Serena laughed. "Once her daughter dies, it won't matter. When you divorce her, she won't have the energy to fight you."

Grant didn't speak.

"You refusing to sign this afternoon... you planned it," Serena pressed.

"...Why do you have to ask?"

"Why shouldn't I? Your daughter is crashing, and you've been here all afternoon. You hung up on your wife. Who would believe it wasn't on purpose?"

The bed creaked.

"Grant, let's be clear." Serena lowered her voice. "You didn't go back because you know that if your daughter dies, Evelyn breaks. And you won't have to explain Noah to her. Right?"

Grant paused. "Noah is my son."

"And your daughter?"

"If she can't handle it..." Grant hesitated. "...then that's that."

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"Why would it? She had a girl."

"So you really had no intention of signing today?"

A long silence. My heartbeat pounded in my ribs.

Then, he spoke. "...No."

Serena chuckled. "Alright. Come here. Forget about her."

I stood there, my hand still half-raised.

"I fixed Noah's birth certificate," Serena murmured, her voice muffled against him. "Once Daniel dies, you adopt Noah. Your dad's money will be easy to touch."

"Yeah."

"And your wife—"

"Don't worry about it. Once this passes, we divorce."

I turned away. The hallway window was open, letting in the cold air. I leaned on the sill, looking down at the blur of traffic.

If she can't handle it. She had a girl. Once this passes, we divorce.

The words jammed in my throat. I couldn't breathe. I gasped at the freezing wind just to force air into my lungs.

I took the elevator down and flagged a cab with a shaking hand.

I leaned my head against the vibrating glass the whole ride. My phone was dead silent.

When I walked back into the hospital atrium, Rosa was at the nurses' station. She saw my face and broke into tears.

"Evelyn—"

I walked past her. The resuscitation room lights were off. I pushed the door open. Molly lay under the dim yellow glow of a bedside lamp. Her face was paper-white, breadcrumbs still caught between her lifeless fingers.

I sat beside her and took her hand. Cold. The chill seeped from her knuckles into my palm, creeping up into my chest, where it settled for good.

I pressed my forehead against her skin.

"Mommy's going to take you to get cake."

No answer.

My shoulders shook. I gripped the mattress, twisting the white sheet in my fist.

"You said you'd be strong."

"You were so strong."

I looked up. A dried tear marked the corner of her eye. I wiped it away with my thumb. Then I just sat there in the dark, holding her hand.