Chapter 9
Ethan dragged me away from Olivia, his grip bruising.
My pleas for my father’s grave, for my parents’ memory, were ignored.
Later that night, he found me huddled in my small staff room.
He didn’t speak.
He just held out his phone.
A video played.
Men, dark figures in the night, at a cemetery.
A headstone, unmistakably my father’s, being smashed with
sledgehammers.
Then, what looked like ashes, scooped from an urn, being scattered
contemptuously at a sprawling, filthy landfill.
The sounds of their laughter, the crunch of stone, the sight of that
desecration …
Something inside me snapped.
A wire, stretched too taut for too long, finally broke.
I looked up at Ethan.
And I slapped him.
Hard.
Across his face.
The sound echoed in the small room.
He touched his lip, a trickle of blood appearing.
A slow, cold smile spread across his face.
It was terrifying.
“Yes,” he said softly. “I am a monster. And you, Sarah, or rather, your
father, made me this way.”
He stepped closer, his eyes glittering.
“You’ll keep paying for Olivia. For what he did to her. For what you
represent.”
My despair was a vast, empty chasm.
“It was never my father’s fault,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “It was
mine. For ever believing you could love anyone. For ever thinking you
were human.”
I stood up, my legs trembling but firm.
“I’m done,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “I quit. No amount of
money is worth this. Not even for Lily.”
Ethan looked momentarily stunned.
His phone rang then, shattering the tense silence.
He answered it, his attention shifting instantly.
“Yes? … Excellent! Three days? That’s wonderful news.”
He hung up, a look of triumph on his face.
“The experimental trial,” he said, almost to himself, a flicker of
excitement in his eyes. “The one for Olivia’s other complications. It’s
starting in three days. She’s going to be okay.”
He seemed to have forgotten my defiance, my resignation, in his elation
for Olivia.
My own phone buzzed. A notification.
A large sum of money had been deposited into my account.
The first payment for enrolling in the high-risk experimental trial.
The one I had signed up for weeks ago.
The one with the potentially fatal side effects.
It was enough. Enough for Lily’s immediate life-saving bone marrow
transplant.
Not a cure, but a chance. A fighting chance.
A chilling thought struck me.
If Ethan found out I was dying, what would he do?
If he knew this money, this sacrifice, was for Lily … would he try to stop
it?
Or worse, would he harm Lily in some twisted retaliation if he thought
I was abandoning my “duties” to Olivia?
He was capable of anything.
I had to protect Lily.
The next day, I took Lily for a DNA test. A simple cheek swab.
I held the sealed envelope with the results.
I told Lily, my voice gentle but firm, “Sweetie, if anything happens to
Mommy, if Mommy has to go on a very long trip and can’t come back …
that man, Mr. Hayes … he’s your father. Take this paper to him. He will
take care of you.”
Lily’ s eyes welled up. “Mommy, no! Don’t go!”
I hugged her tight. “Mommy loves you more than anything in the world.”
The day of the trial arrived.
It was also the day of Lily’s transplant. I had arranged it to coincide.
One last act of love.
I looked in on Lily, sleeping peacefully in her hospital bed after her pre
-transplant prep.
My phone buzzed. A text from Ethan.
“Where the hell are you? Get back here. We’re not done.”
My fingers trembled as I typed my reply.
“We are done, Ethan. You’ll never see me again.”
I turned off my phone.
I walked into the research facility’s clinical trial wing.
The room was sterile, cold.
A nurse smiled kindly.
The high-dosage experimental drugs were administered through an IV.
I felt a strange sense of peace.
Then, darkness.
Hours later, in that sterile room, a heart monitor flatlined.
A tired voice announced, “Subject 3B, female, deceased. Time of death.