Chapter 3

Vivian's POV

Lily and I have no choice but to follow Damien around, watching him play his two favorite roles: the brilliant, selfless surgeon and the devoted, caring father.

Today is his first day back at the hospital. He'd taken an extended leave to look after Bryony and her daughter.

The nurses in the hallway greet him as he passes, admiration written all over their faces. Damien gives each of them a small, modest nod, that signature smile of his, confident without quite showing it. He loves this. Being looked up to. He always has.

At the far end of the transplant unit corridor, he runs into a colleague, Patrick.

"Damien. You're back." Patrick adjusts his glasses, something complicated moving behind his eyes.

"Just got back." Damien stops, settling into that easy, self-satisfied smile. "Couldn't really step away, the kid needed someone there. Actually, since I've got you here, how are my daughter's post-op numbers looking?"

Patrick pauses for just a second, then nods. "Really well. Everything's been stable, no signs of rejection. I stopped by her room a few days ago and she was already up and running around, begging for ice cream."

The satisfaction on Damien's face deepens.

I float nearby, watching.

He's thinking exactly what I expected. That everything I said was just me being dramatic. That the surgery went perfectly, that the kid is fine.

But Patrick isn't talking about Lily.

He never is. Damien had spent years making sure of that. His favoritism toward Bryony and her daughter was an open secret in this hospital. Not once in all the years we were married did he mention me or Lily to anyone here. As far as most of the staff is concerned, Bryony is his wife and Skylar is his daughter.

And standing right here, he still doesn't catch it.

Lily tugs at my hand. "Mommy, but I was hurting so bad that day. Why are they saying I was fine?"

I crouch down and take her cold little hand in mine.

"Because your dad is blind."

Her eyes go wide. "Blind?"

"Yeah. His eyes, his heart. All of it, gone. He put everything he had into someone else's kid and couldn't even see his own daughter right in front of him."

Lily is quiet for a moment. "So... did he forget about me?"

I don't answer.

I just hold her a little tighter.

Patrick goes quiet then. He lets out a slow breath, and when he speaks again, his voice has shifted into something heavier.

"Damien, I have to be honest with you. Seeing you walk back in today... it doesn't sit right with me."

Damien raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"What you did with that transplant waitlist, Damien. That was serious." Patrick chooses his words carefully. "I get that you love that kid. But what you did destroyed another family."

"The little girl who was supposed to get that heart went into acute heart failure that same afternoon. No matching donor, no time to do anything. She was just gone."

The smile on Damien's face goes still.

"Her mom..." Patrick shakes his head slowly. "She walked out of this hospital carrying her daughter's ashes. I'll never forget that. Damien, you're a father. You of all people should know what that does to someone."

Damien stares at him. That composed, unshakeable front of his starts to crack.

"That girl." His voice comes out rough and dry. "What was her name?"

Patrick gives him an odd look.

"Lily. Why?"

The air in the hallway seems to stop moving entirely.

Damien's face drains of color, slowly, like something being pulled out from underneath it.

"Lily." The word barely makes it out. "You said... Lily?"

"Yeah."

"Lily is my daughter." Damien grabs Patrick's arm. "Lily is my daughter. The kid you're talking about, the one who died, she can't be named Lily. You've got it wrong. You have to have it wrong."

Patrick stumbles back from the grip, eyes wide.

"Your daughter? But I thought your daughter was..."

He never finishes the sentence.

Damien has already let go. He staggers backward, knocks over a chair in the hallway, and takes off toward the exit at a near-run, Patrick calling after him.

I watch him go.

Of course he doesn't want to believe it.

His pride won't let him. His ego won't let him. His whole sense of himself depends on this not being true.

He stumbles into the elevator, pulls out his phone, and dials a number he hasn't touched in three months.

A recorded voice comes on. The number has been disconnected.

His hands are shaking badly enough that he almost drops the phone. He scrolls, finds my father's number, and hits call.

It rings for a long time. Long enough that a cold sweat breaks out across his forehead. Long enough that he's almost given up when the other end finally picks up.

"Hello?"

"It's me. It's Damien." His voice has something in it I've never heard from him before. Something small and desperate. "Is Vivian there? Is Lily there? Can you just put one of them on, please. I'm not gonna fight with anyone. I just want to come get them and bring them home."

A long silence on the other end. Then my father's voice, flat and cold.

"Damien. You've got the wrong place. Vivian and Lily are both gone."

"If you want to find them, try hell."

The call ends.

Damien stands there in the elevator, mouth open, no sound coming out. The phone slips from his fingers and hits the floor, the screen shattering, pieces scattering across the floor.