lying on a surgical bed.
If he had only checked, the truth would have been obvious. But he didn’t bother. He didn’t care enough to find out.
A helplessness spread through me, cold and unyielding. I slid down against the wall, curling my arms around my head as if that could shield me from the pain.
Outside, a nurse rushed past, preparing to handle my body. Sadie gasped softly from her bed, and Allen pulled her into his arms, fear flashing through his eyes.
“What is it? Are you in pain?” His voice shook as he turned to glare at the nurse.
The nurse hesitated. “I’m here to take care of a patient’s remains,” she explained quickly.
His face darkened. “Leave it. Find someone else to do it. You focus on her.”
And so, my body lay forgotten on the surgical table, abandoned by the one person who should have cared the most.
Sadie’s condition wasn’t serious, but Allen still insisted on a full-body examination. When it was over, an express delivery arrived at his company. His assistant brought it to the hospital.
It had my name on it.
He just glanced at the documents before his face fell. Inside were my medical records and a pregnancy report—a package I had sent before I was taken. Without a second thought, he threw the documents at his assistant, his anger hardly contained.
“Did Mia send you? Where did she fake these?” His voice was sharp with fury. “So, she realized lying won’t work and decided to forge medical records instead? Does she think I’ll believe her now?
“Tell her it’s useless. It’s just a few old photos—hardly worth this ridiculous scene. If she wants to talk, she can come to me herself. Until Sadie is out of danger, I’m not leaving this hospital.”
The assistant held the papers, his forehead damp with cold sweat. The hospital stamp was real. Every document was authentic. But Allen, too angry to see the truth, refused to believe it. With no other choice, the assistant slipped away to search the hospital system for any trace of me.
That night, while Allen was feeding Sadie soup, his phone buzzed with a message from his assistant.
It was my hospital room number.
I held my breath. If he went to check, everything would be clear. He would know I wasn’t lying.
But he didn’t. Without a second glance, he deleted the message.
“Drama queen,” he muttered under his breath.
