Chapter 1

My husband begs me to save his mistress and their baby, the baby he says she's giving him because I can't.

Seven years ago, his test results showed no sperm in his semen.

I took the blame anyway.

Now he has another woman in a hospital bed, and he needs me to keep her alive.

An hour earlier, I don't know any of this.

I'm finishing rounds when Dr. Helen Brooks calls.

"We have a patient with placenta percreta. Imaging shows bladder involvement. She's had two bleeding episodes, and our lead surgeon is out of state."

"How far along?"

"Thirty-four weeks."

I stop beside the nurses' station.

"Send me the scans. I'll come over."

By the time I reach the receiving hospital, I've reviewed her chart on my phone.

Chloe Dawson. Twenty-seven.

Her placenta has grown through the wall of her uterus and into her bladder. Delivering her baby could cause massive bleeding.

Helen meets me outside the unit.

"We've reserved an operating room for tomorrow morning. Urology and anesthesia are ready. The blood bank knows."

"And tonight?"

"She's stable. Continuous monitoring."

"Any more bleeding, call me immediately."

Chloe is sitting up when I enter her room. Her hair is brushed, her phone plugged in beside her pillow.

"Are you the specialist?"

"Dr. Bennett."

She glances at my badge.

"Will my baby be okay?"

"We have a team preparing for your delivery. I'll explain what we're planning and the risks."

Her eyes fill as I describe the bleeding risk and the possibility that we may need to remove her uterus.

I pull a chair closer.

"We'll take care of you, too, Chloe."

She nods, pressing a tissue under her eyes.

"Can you explain it to my boyfriend? He gets upset when I try."

"Of course."

"He's parking."

I spend another twenty minutes answering her questions. She's frightened, but she understands. Before I leave, she signs the consent forms.

Her phone lights up.

She reads the message and smiles.

"He's here."

The nurse directs me to a small consultation room.

A man stands by the window with his back to the door.

I recognize his jacket first. Navy wool. I bought it for his birthday.

Then he turns.

"Ryan?"

My husband stares at me.

He's supposed to be away at a sales conference. This morning, he texted that the hotel coffee was terrible.

I sent him a picture of the mug he'd left beside our sink.

He never replied.

"What are you doing here?"

His gaze drops to my badge.

"Audrey. I didn't know they called you."

"Why would you?"

He says nothing.

I close the door.

"The patient asked me to speak to her boyfriend."

"Audrey—"

"Is that you?"

"Keep your voice down."

I look through the narrow window beside the door. A nurse passes with a stack of blankets.

When I turn back, Ryan is reaching for me.

I move away.

"How long?"

"It's complicated."

"How long have you been sleeping with her?"

"Almost a year."

We've been married seven.

Last month, he complained that my overnight shifts made him feel like he lived alone. I traded two weekends so we could spend more time together.

He canceled both.

"Is she telling you the baby's yours?"

His face hardens.

"It is mine."

I put the chart on the table before I drop it.

"So you brought her here."

"She needed help. What was I supposed to do?"

"Tell me the truth."

He drags a hand over his mouth.

Then he looks straight at me.

"You couldn't give me a child. She could."