Chapter 1: The Night Everything Broke

Lately, my wife—who’s a doctor—got totally fixated on this good-looking, ghostly-pale resident at the hospital. It was like she couldn’t get enough of him, and suddenly, our daughter’s heart surgery kept getting pushed back again and again. The whole thing made me want to scream. Then, one day, Savannah actually brought the guy home. Our daughter stared up at them, her big eyes round with confusion, not sure what to make of any of it.

The whole house smelled faintly of antiseptic, that sharp hospital scent that clings to everything, and there was this jittery, anxious energy hanging over us. The TV mumbled in the background, but every little noise seemed to cut through the tension like a knife. I watched Savannah flutter around the resident—this guy who looked like he hadn’t seen daylight in ages. For a second, I just thought, God, what is she doing? Their laughter was soft, almost conspiratorial—way too intimate for my liking. It made my skin crawl.

"Why is that man leaning over Mom and saying he wants to eat?" Rosie piped up, her little voice cutting through the weirdness. "But the milk’s in the fridge."

Rosie’s voice was so clear and pure. She squished her stuffed bunny tight, her forehead scrunching up in that way only kids can pull off, like she was trying to solve some big mystery. She shifted from foot to foot, glancing at us, waiting for an answer that would make all of this make sense in her world. The question just kind of hung there, making everything go quiet for a heartbeat.

That single, innocent question turned Savannah’s cheeks bright red. Without warning, she raised her hand and slapped Rosie right across the face.

The slap cracked through the kitchen—sharp, brutal. Rosie’s cheek flared bright red, her eyes filling up with tears so fast it made my stomach twist. For a moment, everything just stopped. My fists balled up at my sides. I could feel the helpless anger boiling up inside me, hot and useless. Savannah’s voice came out shaky, brittle in a way I’d never heard before.

"That’s what happens when you act out. Why do kids always have to stick their noses in grown-up business? Is your dad putting these dumb ideas in your head again?"

The accusation hit almost as hard as the slap itself. I watched Rosie shrink in on herself, her shoulders curling up as if she could disappear. The resident shifted, staring at the floor, like he wished he could vanish too.

My eyes caught on the fresh hickey on Savannah’s neck, and even then, I somehow managed to force out a weak, apologetic smile.

I tried to choke down my pride, the words scraping out between clenched teeth. My gaze never left that angry red mark on her skin. My hands trembled as I wiped away Rosie’s tears, desperate to fix a hurt I couldn’t reach. The whole house felt colder, emptier—like the walls themselves were backing away from us.

"Savannah, the roses you wanted for Rosie are fresh, and the giant rocking horse is set up in her room—everything’s ready. So… when can you schedule the surgery for our daughter?"

I tried to sound upbeat, clinging to some hope of normalcy for Rosie. But my voice cracked, and I could feel the panic gnawing at my insides. My eyes flicked to the roses on the sill, their petals shining with dew, and to the oversized rocking horse in Rosie’s room—a promise I wasn’t sure we’d ever get to keep.

Before I could finish, I rushed to cover Rosie’s eyes. She suddenly pretended her foot hurt and flung herself into Savannah’s arms, planting a wild, messy kiss on her cheek.

Her little performance was awkward but so sincere—a kid’s desperate way of trying to get her mom’s love back. Savannah stiffened, then sighed, patting Rosie’s head like she was checking off a chore. My heart ached watching it, this tiny scene of a family slipping apart, heartbreak by heartbreak.

I’d had enough. I made up my mind—we were leaving the country for treatment. At the airport security line, my father-in-law tried to talk me out of it, begging me to give Savannah another shot. He even went so far as to have someone snatch the resident, threatening Savannah to finally schedule the surgery for our daughter.

The airport was a blur of harsh lights and frantic people. My father-in-law’s voice broke as he pleaded with me, his hands shaking where they gripped my arm. The look in his eyes nearly shattered me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling we were running out of time. It was insane. But that’s how far things had gone—he’d actually had the resident kidnapped, like something out of a bad TV show.

But right in the middle of the operation, Savannah walked out on our anesthetized, open-chested daughter—and she was gone for two hours. All because of something the resident said!

The operating room was freezing, the sterile air humming with tension. Nurses whispered frantically, glancing at the clock as every minute dragged on. I paced the hall, my insides twisting tighter with every second. When I found out what Savannah had done, my legs nearly gave out. I couldn’t wrap my head around it—she’d left our daughter unconscious on the table, chasing after a man she couldn’t let go of.

I came home with nothing but our daughter’s ashes. Savannah, meanwhile, was popping champagne over her new pregnancy. After everything—being locked away, tortured in some basement on a private island—I found myself wandering into the city’s darkest corners, the most secretive auction in the underground.

The flight home was dead quiet, the little urn clutched tight to my chest. The world looked washed out, colorless. Savannah’s laughter rang out from the kitchen as she toasted her new life, hand on her belly. I drifted through the house like a ghost, weighed down by loss. The memory of that basement—damp, suffocating—wouldn’t let go. But I wasn’t finished. I found myself drawn to the city’s underbelly, desperate for justice or maybe just a reason to keep going.

"I want to put a bounty on them!"

The words tumbled out before I could stop them—underworld code everyone here understood. The auction room stank of cigar smoke and secrets, the kind of place where you traded for things nobody should ever own.

I waited outside the operating room, nerves stretched tight. My father-in-law kept trying to calm me down.

The hospital’s fluorescent lights flickered overhead, throwing harsh shadows across the floor. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Every time the double doors swung open, my heart leapt into my throat. My father-in-law tried to reassure me, squeezing my shoulder, but his forced smile didn’t reach his eyes.

"Ethan, don’t be scared. Rosie is Savannah’s own flesh and blood—she’ll do everything she can to make the surgery a success!"

He tried to sound sure, but his voice kept cracking. He kept repeating it, like if he said it enough, it’d become true. I wanted to believe him, but doubt kept chewing at me.

But it didn’t help. Not even a little. Suddenly, someone in blue scrubs rushed past me. My heart dropped.

Savannah burst into view, her surgical scrubs a blur, hair escaping her cap, eyes wild and frantic. My heart pounded, fear and confusion tangling inside me.

"Savannah, why are you out here? Did something happen? Is our kid okay?"

My voice was rough, barely above a whisper. The question just hung there, thick with dread. I searched her face for any sign, any hope.

A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. My knees went weak, and I had to grab the wall to keep from going down. Every muscle in my body felt like it was about to snap. I just needed to hold it together a little longer.

"Dad! Do you have any idea how important a surgeon’s hands are? How could you let someone hurt Dylan’s hands? I don’t care what you say—I can’t do this surgery! I have to check on Dylan at the island—if I don’t, he might do something stupid!"

Savannah’s voice was sharp, almost panicked. The words came out in a tumble, her priorities on full display. She shot her dad a look full of anger and fear. I felt the last bit of hope shrivel up. She was choosing him—again.

Before I could even move, Savannah was gone, vanishing down the hallway. The head nurse just stood there, stunned and furious.

She disappeared so fast, no one could stop her. The head nurse’s face twisted with disbelief, hands pressed to her mouth. The hallway exploded with footsteps and panicked voices.

"Dr. Carter, please! The patient’s already under and open! If you walk out now, there’s nobody left to finish the surgery!"

Her voice broke, raw with desperation. She reached out, but Savannah was already gone, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. The responsibility landed on us, heavy and crushing.

I was so worked up I tripped and hit the floor right there. A wave of terror and rage crashed over me, stealing my breath. My father-in-law clutched his chest and barked at the bodyguards to bring Savannah back. But she was gone—wild-eyed, she blew through three red lights and disappeared.

I hit the cold tile hard, the shock snapping me out of my daze. My father-in-law’s face drained of color as he gasped for air, barking orders at security. The chaos was everywhere—shouting, screeching tires, sirens wailing as Savannah tore out of the parking garage.

"Mr. Carter, Mr. Hayes, you have to do something. The lead surgeon’s gone. The associate chief of surgery isn’t confident enough for something this delicate, and the kid can’t stay under anesthesia much longer—someone has to step in!"

The head nurse’s voice cut through the noise, urgent and shaky. She looked from one of us to the other, desperate for someone to take charge. The reality hit like a punch: my daughter’s life was slipping away, and nobody could help.

Her words barely registered—my ears were ringing, my head spinning. My father-in-law snapped into action.

All I could hear was the roar in my ears. My vision blurred. My father-in-law squared his shoulders, jaw set, and took charge, his voice slicing through the panic like a blade.

"Now! Start calling every top surgeon in Maple Heights. And someone find that ungrateful brat! That pretty boy out there is nothing but trouble! I already promised—if Rosie survives, I’ll let him go! Who helped them get in touch in the middle of this mess?"

He fired off orders rapid-fire, all business. His anger radiated, and the hospital staff scattered, scrambling to obey. The fear in the air was almost a physical thing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a young nurse peeking around the operating room doors. The head nurse’s face darkened as she yanked the girl over and shoved her in front of me.

The young nurse looked petrified, her gaze flicking everywhere but at us. The head nurse’s grip was iron as she shoved her forward, demanding answers. The guilt was written all over the nurse’s face.

"Mr. Hayes, we had everything ready in there. But her—she kept quiet, waited until the kid was under, then whispered something to Dr. Carter! I thought she was just wiping Dr. Carter’s sweat!"

The accusation dropped like a stone. The nurse’s lip trembled as she tried to speak, but the head nurse shut her down with a glare. I could barely process it—I was too busy staring at the clock, every second another nail in the coffin.

Honestly, I couldn’t care less what message she gave Dylan. On my phone, I tried Savannah for the third time—no answer, just like before.

My hands shook as I kept calling, panic rising every time she didn’t pick up. The call cut out, that cold, flat beep in my ear hitting like a slap. I stared at the screen, begging her—just pick up, come back, save our daughter.

"Ethan, don’t think you can team up with my dad to hide Dylan and push me around! Kids grow up fine if you feed them. If you keep faking her illness just to get my attention, I’ll end up hating you both even more!"

Her text was ice-cold, every word meant to cut. I could practically hear her voice—flat, annoyed, like this was all just some hassle I’d made up. My chest squeezed tight, the urge to scream burning in my throat.

She shot down every plea. The phone beeped again—she’d blocked me.

The finality of it slammed into me. I stared at the phone, numb, realizing I was completely on my own. My daughter was on her own.

Everything blurred together—lights, voices, color. The head nurse came toward me, her face streaked with tears.

Time seemed to stretch out, every second syrupy and strange. The head nurse’s eyes were red and swollen, her hands shaking as she reached for me. The harsh hospital lights flickered overhead. I braced for the worst.

"Mr. Hayes, your daughter is gone. I’m so sorry."

The words barely landed at first. Everything sounded muffled, like I was underwater. The floor wobbled beneath me, and I grabbed the wall to keep from going down.

"Monster!" my father-in-law howled, then just crumpled to the floor.

His scream was raw, pure agony. He collapsed, staff rushing to help him. For a second, I was frozen, unable to move. The hallway spun around me, colors bleeding together.

I wiped my face, dizzy and chest tight, barely feeling anything.

My whole body was numb. My heart thudded, each beat a cruel reminder that I was still here, even as my world fell apart.

"What… did you say?"

My voice was barely a whisper, trembling. I clung to the desperate hope that I’d heard wrong, that there’d been some mistake, some miracle left.

Rosie had been born with congenital heart disease. I spent five years pouring every bit of love I had into her. Now, she was just… gone?

Every memory flashed through my mind—her first steps, her giggle, the way she grabbed my leg when she was scared. Five years of loving her with everything I had, trying to keep her safe from a world that was just too much. Now, all I had left was ashes and regret.

The head nurse shook me, hard, yanking me back to reality.

Her grip was solid, her eyes fierce. She forced me to focus, to remember there were still things to do. I blinked hard, trying to steady my breath.

"Mr. Hayes, we need to save Mr. Carter. Please, hurry and find the attending doctor to sign the paperwork!"

Her urgency snapped me out of my grief. I nodded, numb, stumbling down the hall to do what had to be done. The world felt far away, but I kept moving.

For three days, I couldn’t drag myself out of the pain. By day, I sat by my father-in-law’s hospital bed; at night, I curled up in the morgue, holding my daughter’s body. It wasn’t until my father-in-law, voice barely there, told me to cremate her and lay her to rest that I finally felt something like peace, a tiny anchor in a storm.

The hospital became my whole world—white walls, beeping machines, nurses’ footsteps echoing in the halls. I watched my father-in-law sleep, his face drawn and gray. At night, I curled around Rosie’s tiny form, whispering apologies into the cold air. When it was time to let her go, I felt a strange, bittersweet calm—a final, fragile goodbye.

"Dad, I want a divorce from Savannah. This time, nothing you say will change my mind. I have to go through with it."

The words tasted like acid, but I knew there was no other way. My hands shook, but I was sure—I couldn’t stay in a marriage built on betrayal.

His shoulders slumped. He met my furious gaze, but didn’t say anything for a long time.

He looked years older in that moment, his face sagging under the weight of grief and guilt. The silence between us was thick with everything we’d never said. I wondered if he blamed himself as much as I blamed him.

Savannah and I had gone to college together. Back then, she was the campus queen—always the center of attention, guys lining up for her. I liked her wild, bold streak, but I loved her dedication to research even more.

We met in a crowded lecture hall, her laugh ringing out over the noise. She had this magnetic energy that pulled people in. I admired her from a distance, then up close, as we burned the midnight oil in the lab, sharing secrets over cheap coffee.

After graduation, at a dance, I got way too drunk. Woke up with Savannah asleep on my chest. When my father-in-law opened the hotel room door, I thought I was dead meat. Instead, he just smiled and said Savannah was his only daughter—he wanted her close, not married off far away. Since the damage was done, I spent three days begging my own parents to let me stay in Maple Heights and marry her.

It was a blur of embarrassment and stress. My father-in-law’s weird kindness threw me off, but I was determined to do right by Savannah. I spent three days pleading with my parents, swallowing my pride and their disappointment. In the end, love—or something like it—won out.

Finally, my dad agreed, but only if I kept it a secret that I was the second son of the Hayes family from Toledo—and never used our family’s connections to help Savannah get ahead.

It felt like a weird deal at the time—a secret to keep, a promise to hold. I agreed, thinking it was a small price for a future with Savannah. I had no idea how heavy that secret would get.

I never really got why my parents disliked Savannah and her dad so much. Even at Thanksgiving, they made it clear the Carter family wasn’t welcome in Toledo, didn’t want their peace disturbed.

Holidays were always tense—forced smiles, stiff conversations, the air thick with things nobody dared say out loud. I spent Thanksgiving dinners wishing we could just have one meal without all the drama.