Chapter 4

It was nine the next morning.

I went to the city hospital first.

I needed to check on the release paperwork for my mother-in-law and pick up the records from my emergency treatment after the miscarriage.

The hospital corridors were packed with people, heavy with the suffocating smell of antiseptic.

Wearing a long black trench coat and a mask, I had just reached the records department window when I heard Cheryl's voice.

"Julian, this hospital's follow-up process is such a hassle. Can't we just go to a private clinic?"

She clung to his arm, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

Julian looked down at her with a gentle smile. "Be good. Their imaging equipment here is the best. Once we're done, I'll take you to buy that designer bag you wanted."

As they rounded the corner, they ran straight into me.

The smile on Julian's face instantly vanished.

He looked me up and down, his lips twisting into a sneer.

"Stalking me now, Chloe?"

"What, you can't survive without me after all? Chasing me all the way to the hospital to corner me?"

Cheryl shrank slightly behind his back.

"Chloe, please stop clinging to Julian. Making a scene like this only embarrasses everyone."

I ignored them entirely, stepping up to the counter.

"Hi. I'm here to pick up the records from yesterday."

The clerk checked her computer. "Chloe Vance, correct? Give me a moment."

Julian stepped up behind me, letting out a sharp scoff.

"What records? A psychiatric evaluation?"

"Haven't you had enough of this tragic victim routine? Faking near-death yesterday, faking illness today. Do you honestly think I buy any of it?"

I turned my head to look at him.

"Julian, do you genuinely believe every woman in the world revolves around you?"

"Who do you think you are?"

Julian's face darkened, and he reached out aggressively to grab my wrist. "Say that again."

Just then, the surgeon who had handled the emergency resuscitation yesterday walked past.

He caught sight of Julian and stopped in his tracks.

"Are you Mrs. Eleanor Vance's son?"

Julian frowned. "I am. What about it?"

The doctor let out an exhausted sigh.

"We tried to reach you yesterday. The medical examiner has cleared your mother for release. The funeral director is here, and we need you to confirm her identity and sign the transfer authorization."

Julian stood frozen, every drop of color slowly draining from his face.

"What... what did you say?"

His voice trembled violently.

"What body? What morgue?"

The doctor looked at him, his tone turning solemn and confused. "Mr. Vance, your mother suffered massive internal hemorrhaging from a car crash yesterday afternoon. Resuscitation efforts failed. She passed away. Didn't you know?"

Julian whipped his head toward me, his eyes bloodshot and wide with panic.

"Chloe, did you pay a doctor to go along with this?"

"My mother was perfectly healthy! How could she be dead?!"

The clerk slid a manila folder through the window.

I took the folder. "They'll take you to see her downstairs."

Without another word, I clutched the folder and walked toward the elevators.

Julian sprinted past me, smashing the call button with hands that shook uncontrollably.

Cheryl called after him, terrified, but he didn't even look back.

A morgue attendant took Julian into the viewing room. He reached for the sheet as soon as the attendant drew it back.

His mother lay there, her face devoid of any color, utterly still.

His knees gave out, and he collapsed heavily onto the concrete floor.

"Mom! Mom, wake up! It's Julian!"

He grabbed her cold, stiff hands, sobbing so hard he choked on his own breath.

"How can this be? You were fine yesterday morning. What happened?"

Cheryl rushed down the stairs, but the moment she crossed the threshold and saw the corpse, she let out a shriek of terror, covering her eyes and stumbling backward.

I walked over to the waste bin, opened the folder, pulled out several pages of duplicate records, tore them into shreds, and dropped them inside.

Finally, I tossed in the blood-stained ultrasound report.

Hearing the rustle of paper, Julian turned around.

He saw the crumpled ultrasound report in the bin. The image showed two gestational sacs.

He scrambled across the floor on his hands and knees, snatching the crumpled paper out of the trash.

"Twelve weeks... dichorionic diamniotic twins..."

As he read the words aloud, his voice completely broke.

He looked up at me, his lips trembling.

"Chloe, where are the babies?"

I stood tall before him, looking down into his shattered face.

"Take a wild guess. Why didn't they survive long enough to meet their father?"

Julian's mouth hung open, but not a single sound came out.

Clutching the ultrasound image to his chest, he looked back at the gurney where his mother lay cold and silent. A strangled, animalistic wail tore from his throat.

He buried his face against the icy floor, curling his entire body into a tight, pathetic ball.

I dropped my copy of the proposed divorce settlement in front of him.

"Julian Vance. As far as I'm concerned, we're done."