Chapter 44

ANNA

We make it to the hospital in just ten minutes. We hurry into the ER, praying for someone to help her.

“Anna? James?” Jackie, a nurse who’s familiar with us, rushes over. She takes one look at Olivia’s arm and gasps.

“Someone grabbed her arm, Jackie. She needs blood,” I tell her, my voice filled with urgency.

“Dr. Frank!!” she yells across the room. Dr. Frank sprints over, his face a mask of shock.

“Anna, what happened?” he asks, looking at Liv’s arm and shaking his head.

“Who did this?”

“One of my staff thought it was okay to grab a child’s arm. I’ll deal with it later,” James says, his face dark with anger.

“Who does that?” Dr. Frank asks, still shocked. He gestures toward Livvy.

“Someone without any morals,” I say, rolling my eyes. The thought of Astrid sends a chill down my spine.

“I’ll get her some blood, platelets, all of that. Her immune system is weak. When’s your next two-week stay?”

“Next month. She’ll get a heavy dose of chemo. Once the baby is born, she’ll have a stem cell transplant,” I explain. “She’s doing well, even without the transplant. But it’s good to have a backup plan.

“Also, knowing this baby will be a donor, we can ease up on the chemo. The treatment next month is to speed up the process. At least, that’s the hope…”

I sigh. How could someone do this? They hook Olivia up with some blood through her port. Relief washes over Dr. Frank’s face.

“I’ll order some bloodwork for tomorrow. For now, I want her admitted to the isolation wing. I don’t want her exposed to any more germs.

“Her immune system is practically nonexistent at this point,” he says, sighing.

“Do I have to stay?” Olivia asks, her face falling into a pout.

“Yes, Lovebug,” I tell her. She crosses her arms, upset.

“Why? I just stayed. Momma, I don’t want to stay!” She bursts into tears, sobbing and looking at me.

She’s been so strong. She’s never complained about staying in the hospital, not once. This is the first time I’ve seen a change in her behavior.

“We hope it’s just for one night. But we can’t go home right now, baby. We need you strong, and right now, you aren’t strong enough to help the chemo warriors.” Her eyes widen.

“But my hair is falling out and I’m tired. You told me that I was helping them!” she yells at me.

I’m exhausted. I’m just done. All the fighting, the explaining. Constantly finding reasons for her to keep fighting. She’s doing so well, but I’m done.

Every time we come to the hospital, her levels are good. She can have the chemo and we know it’s working. Jasmine told us she’s doing well.

She has a good chance for survival, but we can’t expect her to always be strong, right?

James sits on the bed. He gently uncrosses Liv’s arms and takes her hands in his.

“Because of what happened when that woman grabbed you, the chemo warriors need a bit of help. This,” he says, pointing to the blood bag, “will help them.

“Otherwise they can’t do their job. And we need it to work, princess,” he says, his voice cracking.

“We need you to kick that cancer’s butt. We need you to stay alive, Olivia Rose Brown. Daddy can’t live without you,” he whispers.

Her eyes widen and her wailing fills the room. “I don’t want to leave you, Daddy,” she sobs.

He pulls her against his chest as she cries. “Then you have to stay in the hospital again for a night, maybe two. Until Dr. Frank says it’s okay to go home. Momma and I will stay with you, okay?”

She looks up from his chest and looks at me.

“Momma?” She lets go of James and crawls my way. “I don’t want to go away. I want to be with you,” she says, kissing my chest.

“I’ll stay,” she decides.

“Good, because Momma loves you,” I tell her, pressing my forehead against hers.

“I love you too. I’m sorry for yelling,” she says, looking ashamed. But she has nothing to be ashamed of. It’s hard—she’s allowed to feel like this once in a while.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, my little Lovebug.”

James comes over and pulls us into his embrace. We stay like that for a little while, until I hear someone clear his throat.

“I have a room ready for Olivia,” Dr. Frank says. I nod and get up. We’ll walk with her.

“I have to take care of something, but I’ll be back in a couple of hours with our bags,” James says, his tone determined.

I know this isn’t the end of it. His face says it all—someone is in trouble.

“Don’t be too harsh on Astrid,” I tell him.

“She should be grateful she’s not in a body bag. If you weren’t pregnant, she’d be in an ambulance or at the morgue right now.”

I smile at his words—he knows me so well.

~Yeah, I would’ve punched her in the gut and then thrown her down the stairs.~

~Okay, that might sound a bit violent.~

“Just think before you act, okay?”

He gives a nod and exits the ER, off to deal with Astrid. I could tell from the moment I saw his face—she’s the one. But she really needs to reassess her moral compass.

I inhale deeply and head towards the isolation wing. Yet again.

JAMES

I always request Dr. Frank to send me email updates on Liv’s condition. My mom wants to ensure everything is being handled properly. Who am I to deny her that small comfort that helps her sleep at night?

But right now, it’s time for Astrid to get a taste of Mad Brown. They know me as a ruthless businessman, and Astrid always beams with pride when I acquire another company.

But today, she crossed a line.

I know I share some of the blame. But it’s never okay to grab a little girl’s arm. It doesn’t matter that she’s my daughter, she overstepped. I always knew she was a shark with dubious morals.

But this? This is just unacceptable. If she thought business me was scary, she better brace herself. She made my daughter and the love of my life cry.

I pull up and park my car hastily, not even considering the potential repercussions. Sarah, the receptionist, spots me and rushes over.

“How’s Olivia?” she asks, concern etched on her face. I shake my head.

“In isolation,” I reply curtly. Her eyes widen.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir,” she responds politely.

“I’m heading up to HR, can you let Astrid know I need her there?” I ask her, my tone softer this time.

“Of course,” she replies and walks away.

“Oh, and Sarah?” she turns back around. “Thanks for asking.”

She smiles and returns to her phone.

I take the elevator to the twentieth floor, where the HR representative and my COO John are seated. I knock on the door.

“Come in,” John calls out. He’s engrossed in his laptop when he notices me. “James? What’s up?”

I take a seat and let out a sigh. “Olivia is in isolation, again. That girl has her mother’s resilience, no doubt. But I’m here because what happened today can’t repeat itself. And not just because she’s my daughter.

“Astrid clearly lacks basic decency and respect for others. I mean, I appreciate her work ethic, but this job is more than just crunching numbers.

“It’s about understanding the value of things and being able to communicate effectively. She berated Anna in front of a room full of influential people. And she proudly admitted that she bruised Liv’s arm.

“And you’d have to be an idiot not to realize that she has cancer,” I continue, my voice laced with disgust.

A sense of relief washes over me as I recount the events, even though he’s already aware of it all. It’s John. John has been my right-hand man since college and we built this company from scratch, together.

He runs his hand through his hair. “You’re right. What do you want to do?”

“Because it’s my daughter, I’d love to send her to the hospital. But I could get sued.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. A knock on the door interrupts us, and I remember who it is.

“Come in,” John calls out as he catches my knowing glance.

“I was needed here?” Astrid asks arrogantly. She steps behind me as I rise.

“Yes. We need to talk,” I inform her.

She swallows hard, but then rolls her eyes. “What’s this about?” she inquires.

I roll my eyes this time.

“You assaulted a child, Astrid,” John states, clearly annoyed.

~I feel you, buddy. I feel you.~

“Assaulted? Isn’t that a bit extreme?” she argues, crossing her arms.

I shake my head. “It was assault. That little girl is now in the hospital. She’ll have to stay there with three bags of blood being pumped into her arm,” I retort.

Okay, three bags is a bit of an exaggeration, but she needs to understand the gravity of her actions.

She shakes her head. “I just held her arm,” she counters, clearly irritated.

I pull out my phone and dial Anna. She picks up after two rings. “Hi, J,” she greets.

“Hi, A. Can you turn on your camera and show me Liv’s arm, please?”

“Okay, sure. It doesn’t look good, babe. I don’t think we’ll be going home tomorrow,” she informs me.

Astrid looks at me again, and I think I see a flicker of curiosity in her eyes.

Anna turns on her camera and I see my little princess. She looks so pale.

“Lovebug, I’m sorry, but Momma needs to take a look,” she says.

Liv doesn’t even question it, she just closes her eyes again. The bruise has spread across her entire upper arm.

“This is what you did,” I tell Astrid, showing her my phone. She gulps, visibly shocked, and shakes her head.

“Thanks, babe,” I tell Anna.

“Can you bring the snail cream when you come back, please? This little one is giving me stretch marks,” she complains.

Stretch marks my ass. She looks stunning. I really want to roll my eyes at her, but then I would get into trouble. It’s not worth a week of no sex.

“Sure, babe. Night table?” she sighs. “No, fridge.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” I end the call and turn back to Astrid.

John gives me a smirk.

“What?” I ask.

“You are so whipped,” he declares.

“I’m not whipped, I just love that woman. And you do too,” I remind him.

“I do, she’s even more lovable than she was six years ago,” he admits proudly.

“Astrid, I’m not firing you. That’s thanks to my wife, so you might want to show her some gratitude,” I tell her.

She visibly relaxes, her shoulders dropping. This job is her world, but she needs to understand the importance of respect—quickly. She starts to approach me, probably to express her thanks, but I hold up a hand to stop her.

“However—you’re going to take a course. One that teaches values and standards. I don’t know where you got the idea that it’s okay to grab people or scold pregnant women, but in this company…

“No, scratch that—in this country, and in about ninety-nine percent of the world—that’s not acceptable,” I say, my tone firm.

Her shoulders slump again, her mouth forms a pout, and her eyes start to redden.

~Don’t you dare start crying.~

“You’ll take this course, and ~if~ you pass, you can return as my assistant. Until then, you’re being reassigned to the fourth floor. They need an assistant, and frankly, I can’t stand to look at you right now.

“You essentially attacked a child with cancer, and that child was mine,” I say, pointing at myself as my voice wavers.

“I hope you understand the gravity of your actions.”

I’m surprised at how composed I remain throughout our conversation. There’s no need to sugarcoat it—she’s being disciplined and sent to the equivalent of a time-out.

“You can’t be serious!” she shouts at me.

I raise an eyebrow.

“It’s either that, or you can pack your things,” John chimes in.

Now she turns her anger toward John. “But I—” she starts, but John cuts her off by slamming his hands on the table and standing up.

“Do you have children, Astrid?” I ask, hoping to give John a moment to cool down.

“No, but I have nieces and nephews,” she replies.

“What do you think your siblings would do if you’d treated their child like that? Because when it comes down to it, you landed a three-year-old in the hospital,” I say, my tone harsh.

She swallows hard. “My mom would’ve kicked my ass,” she admits, fear flashing in her eyes.

“Yeah, I would’ve done the same,” John adds.

“Take the course, or leave,” John says. “Those are your options. Either get your values and morals straight, or pack your things.”

Her shoulders slump. “I was just doing what I thought was right. I thought they were interrupting the meeting,” she says, her voice filled with regret.

“Then why didn’t you just knock on the door and ask if I had a wife and daughter?” I retort.

“Oh…,” she mumbles, a hand going to her hip. “Yeah. I probably should’ve done that.”

“You think?!”