Chapter 2 - I pulled out my phone
The emergency room at St. Jude’s Hospital was a blur of fluorescent lights, antiseptic smells, and the terrifying, clinical efficiency of nurses bringing a fever down. By 6:30 AM, they had Jack on an IV of fluids and antipyretics. The doctor told me it was a severe bacterial infection, caught just in time.
I sat in the hard plastic chair in the observation room, watching the steady rise and fall of my son's chest. Lily kicked sharply against my ribs, a reminder that I was guarding two lives now.
I pulled out my phone. My hands were shaking, but my mind was violently clear. I went into the 'Recently Deleted' folder on Grayson's shared cloud. He was meticulous, but he wasn't smart. He hadn't permanently erased the trash bin.
I restored the photo. Then I found the others.
Digital invitations. Venue confirmations. The location was the Botanical Atrium downtown.
If anyone had walked down that hospital corridor at that exact moment—they would have seen the portrait of a woman at the absolute crucible of her life. In the image, I am sitting in the sterile waiting area, heavy with my six-month pregnancy, tears spilling over my cheeks as I stare at the glowing wedding photo on my phone. Beside me is a binder of medical paperwork and my wedding ring, which I had just pulled off my finger. But walking up behind me in the blurred background, dressed in a sharp black suit and carrying a stack of legal folders, is Evelyn.
My attorney.
"Lauren," Evelyn said, stopping beside my chair. She didn't offer pity. I didn't pay her for pity.
May you like
"Did you draft them?" I asked, wiping my face, my voice hardening into steel.
"Emergency asset freeze, eviction notices, and the divorce petition," Evelyn said, handing me the folders. "I pulled the records on the venue. It’s an expensive choice. Paid for in full from the joint account you share with him."
