Chapter 2 - The Scent of Another Woman
Trauma Bay Two was an island of controlled chaos. Monitors beeped frantically as we moved Vanessa Reed onto the examination bed. Her vitals were erratic; tachycardia, blood pressure dipping dangerously low. Her skirt was soaked through, the unmistakable sign of a threatened miscarriage. As a physician, every instinct I possessed commanded me to disconnect my personal agony and focus on the human being dying on the table. But every touch was torture. Vanessa wore a bespoke diamond pendant around her neck—a delicate platinum circle studded with sapphires. It was identical to the custom piece an elite jeweler had billed to our joint business account three months ago, which Vincent had claimed was a corporate appreciation gift for a female venture partner.
""Look at me, Vanessa,"" I said, adjusting the overhead examination lamp with steady fingers that defied the storm inside my heart. ""My name is Dr. Moretti. I need you to breathe slowly. How many weeks along are you?""
""Eight,"" she sobbed, tears cutting tracks through her smeared foundation. Her hands were shaking violently as she reached up, grabbing my forearm with frantic strength. ""We’ve been trying for three years, Doctor. Vincent promised this year would change everything. He said once the baby came, we wouldn't have to hide anymore. Please... don't let me lose him.""
Three years.
Vincent and I had been married for five. The math was simple, clean, and devastating. More than half of our sacred vows had been spent sharing his bed, his laughter, and his resources with a woman who didn't even know I existed until tonight. When Vincent had told me our intimacy had dried up because of the crushing pressure of his hedge fund expansion, he was spending his passion in high-rise suites with Vanessa. When he claimed his emotional distance was merely the byproduct of mourning our lost child, he had already planted a seed in someone else’s garden.
""Doctor, her pressure is dropping,"" Nurse Daniels warned, her voice tight. ""We need to verify the source of the hemorrhage.""
""Set up a transvaginal ultrasound,"" I commanded, refusing to look back toward the doorway where Vincent stood behind the glass partition, pressing his palms against the pane like a caged beast. He was mouthing my name, begging with silent, desperate gestures, but to me, he was already dead. He was merely a ghost lingering in the hallway of my life.
The ultrasound wand glided over Vanessa’s lower abdomen. The screen flickered to life, rendering grainy shades of gray and black. My heart stuttered. A gestational sac was visible, nestled near the uterine wall, accompanied by a small subchorionic hematoma—a pocket of blood that was threatening the pregnancy, but hadn't yet destroyed it. A rhythmic, fluttering flicker pulsed in the center of the dark space.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
The heartbeat was strong. One hundred and forty beats per minute. A life fighting against the odds.
""Is my baby alive?"" Vanessa cried out, squeezing her eyes shut as if bracing for a death sentence.
I looked at the monitor, then looked down at the woman who had helped destroy my home. She didn't look malicious; she looked terrified, naive, and completely dependent on a monster who wore a bespoke suit. ""Your baby is alive, Vanessa,"" I said gently, speaking with the clinical grace that had taken me ten years of medical school to master. ""You have a hematoma. We’re administering progesterone and IV fluids immediately. If you rest and remain strictly still, the bleeding will subside.""
Vanessa let out a ragged sob of pure gratitude, sinking back against the pillows. ""Thank you, Doctor. Thank you so much. God bless you.""
I stripped off my gloves and dropped them into the biohazard bin with a heavy thud. ""Rest now. The obstetrician will take over your care from here.""
As I stepped out of the trauma bay, Vincent intercepted me instantly, grabbing my elbow. ""Claire! Claire, wait! Please, God, just hear me out!""
I yanked my arm away with enough force to make him stagger against the metal supply cart. ""Do not touch me. If you put your hands on me again in this hospital, security will drag you out into the snow in handcuffs.""
""You don't understand what this is,"" he plead, tears welling in his dark eyes, his breathing ragged. ""Vanessa is fragile. Her father was my biggest seed investor when Moretti Capital almost went under three years ago. It started as business, Claire, I swear to you! She got attached, and things spiraled out of control. I was trying to find a way out without bankrupting the firm!""
I stared at him, fascinated by how easily lies rolled off his tongue even when standing knee-deep in the wreckage of his deceit. ""You brought her to my hospital, Vincent. You called her your wife in front of twenty medical staff members. You kissed her forehead the same way you kissed mine six hours ago.""
""I panicked! I didn't know where else to take her! You're the best doctor in the city—I knew if anyone could save my—could save her, it was you!""
""Your baby, Vincent. Say the word. It's your baby.""
May you like
He froze, his jaw trembling, unable to deny it.
I smiled, a cold, sharp expression that made him flinch. ""I saved your baby tonight because it is my duty as a physician. But my duty as your wife ended the second you crossed that threshold.""
