Chapter 4Too Late To Beg Professor Crawford

Brooke burst into hysterical sobs, pounding her fists against Garrett’s chest. "How could you do this to me! After everything!"

She whipped her head toward me, her eyes manic with desperation. "It’s either me and this baby, or her, Garrett! You can't have both!"

With that, she shoved past his parents and ran out the front door, slamming it behind her.

Evelyn threw her hands up in frantic distress, smacking Garrett’s shoulder. "What are you standing there for? Go after her! If anything happens to my grandchild, you won't have a mother anymore!"

Garrett hesitated. He turned back toward me, his expression torn, heavy with an arrogant kind of desperation.

"Wait for me here, Nora," he said, holding my gaze. "I’m not giving up on us. I’m keeping you, and I’m keeping the baby."

Before I could answer, his mother dragged him by the sleeve, and the three of them hurried down the corridor.

The apartment went dead silent.

I finished packing my bags without pausing to breathe. My phone on the console table buzzed continuously—vibration after vibration.

I tapped the screen.

Dozens of messages from Brooke. Photographs of Garrett holding her on a park bench, Garrett kissing her temple in a café, Garrett with his arm wrapped securely around her waist.

You see? He says whatever he needs to say to keep you quiet, but I'm the one he actually protects.

Sign the papers, Nora. Have some dignity and walk away.

I turned the screen off. Not a single ripple stirred in my chest.

An alert popped up: my corporate travel visa had been stamped and cleared for pickup at the downtown consulate, and my one-way flight to Milan was booked for tomorrow evening.

I took a rideshare downtown, signed the legal forms, and tucked the stamped passport into my purse.

As I walked out of the consular plaza toward the adjacent shopping center, I saw them.

Across the wide pedestrian crosswalk, the four of them were walking together. Brooke had her arm linked through Evelyn’s, while her other hand was laced through Garrett’s fingers. His father carried their shopping bags.

They looked like a thriving, multi-generational family on a weekend stroll.

I pulled my gaze away, feeling completely detached from the scene.

My phone buzzed in my coat pocket.

Nora, I’m stuck in an emergency department meeting at the university. I’m nowhere near Brooke, I swear. Just rest, honey.

No shame. Lies came to his lips as naturally as drawing breath.

I didn't reply. It didn't matter anymore. In twenty-four hours, an ocean would sit between us.

When I arrived back at the apartment to collect my remaining personal documents, the front door swung open minutes later. Garrett hurried in, looking haggard and breathless.

"Nora," he said, his voice urgent. "Brooke’s ultrasound showed severe placental complications. The OB-GYN said she’s at critical risk for a major postpartum hemorrhage."

I looked up from the kitchen island, expressionless. "What does that have to do with me?"

His lips pressed into a thin, tight line. "Don't be so callous. I told you, this child will call you Mom one day."

He lowered his tone, attempting to sound soothing. "Brooke has B-negative blood. The hospital’s local blood bank is critically low on rare Rh-negatives right now. You’re B-negative too."

He paused, stepping closer. "The doctor recommends setting aside an autologous reserve. I need you to donate 400 milliliters every month until delivery, just to be safe."

I stared at him, my mind struggling to process the sheer depravity of what he had just suggested.

"You know I have chronic iron-deficiency anemia," I whispered, the words trembling with rage. "You want me to act as a living blood bag for your mistress?"

My chest heaved. "Are you even human, Garrett?"

A flash of sharp annoyance crossed his brow. "It’s one pint of blood, Nora! You can't have children of your own anymore, and this baby is going to be raised by you! As a future mother, is a minor physical sacrifice really too much to ask?"

He caught the harshness in his own voice, but he didn't apologize.

"Look, I need you to cooperate. The car is downstairs. We’re going now."

Before I could pull away, he seized my upper arm in an iron grip, marching me down the elevator and shoving me into the passenger seat.