Chapter 4Consumed by the Sea of Fire

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital room. A nurse was gently explaining that they hadn’t been able to save the baby.

My hands drifted to my stomach. Only the loose, empty flesh remained as proof that a life had ever been there. I stared blankly at the ceiling tiles, my hand reaching for my phone on the nightstand.

I was about to text Alex two words—I want a divorce—when his call came through first.

I answered. Before I could speak, he unleashed a torrent of fury.

“What the hell is this crap online? Did you post this? Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much damage this is doing to the hospital? Take it down, now! I can’t take another day of this. Spreading rumors is illegal, you know that? Can’t you just be a normal person for once?”

“Take it down, or we’re getting a divorce!”

He hung up before I could even process what he was saying.

Pure, unadulterated hatred drowned out every other thought. My nails dug into my palms, my knuckles white with strain.

This time, Eliza was fine. He hadn't done anything overtly criminal, so I had no grounds to call the police.

Remembering his words, I opened my phone. I saw it immediately. Some bystander had filmed the aftermath of the crash and posted it online. The internet had seized on the key detail: a desperate 911 call that was ignored.

The hospital's ER was being crucified online, trending for all the wrong reasons. If Dr. Evans hadn't shown up at the end of the video, offering a small glimmer of competence, the entire hospital might have been forced to shut down from the backlash. I searched for the hospital's official social media page; it had already been deleted under a tidal wave of angry comments.

The ER had made a fatal error. I had no reason to defend them or ask for the video to be taken down.

In fact, I was enjoying the show.

I clicked over to Eliza’s Instagram. In stark contrast to the hospital’s chaotic meltdown, her page was a picture of serene, curated perfection. Not a single hint of a self-destructive tendency. She had even posted an update while I was in surgery.

A picture of a sunset, with the caption: The perfect partner is the best medicine for any illness of the mind.

I let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh and liked the post. Her acting was truly superb.

Enjoy your ‘perfect partner,’ I thought. He’s all yours.

A minute later, my phone rang again. Alex.

I didn’t answer. I just declined the call and blocked his number. Immediately, a text notification popped up.

Why are you harassing Eliza? If you have a problem, take it up with me. Stop acting like a psycho in front of her!

I quickly typed back: Let's get a divorce.

Then I blocked him on that platform, too.

Just then, a commotion erupted in the hallway outside. A feeding frenzy of reporters had descended on the hospital lobby, demanding to speak with the head of the ER. Nurses and security guards were shouting, “No cameras!” but it was useless.

Dr. Evans came out of his office to try and control the chaos, identifying himself as the doctor in the video, but he was drowned out. The hospital director arrived in a panic, but the press wasn't buying any of his placating statements.

Bowing to the immense pressure, the hospital served up the colleague who had taken my 911 call. She stood before the cameras, weeping hysterically, claiming she had been manipulated by Alex and that her professional failure was an honest mistake.

Then, the director’s next call was to Alex. He was ordered to be at the hospital within thirty minutes.

Worried I’d be swarmed by reporters, Dr. Evans came into my room, advising me to stay put. He promised they would handle it, admitting that the hospital was at fault.

I had just nodded when my room door was kicked open.

Alex stormed in. He completely ignored Dr. Evans, his face a mask of fury as he bellowed at me.

“I told you to explain what happened! Are you deaf? You know damn well what the situation was! If you don't retract this story, I’ll sue you for slander! You’ve pushed it this far—is this what you wanted? To force me to divorce you?”

“Fine,” I said calmly. “Let’s get a divorce.”

He didn’t seem to hear me. His gaze dropped to my flat stomach, and his eyes widened in shock.

He paused for a second, his angry gaze sweeping over the empty, sterile room. His voice, when it finally came, was hesitant.

“The baby?”