92| The News

After what felt like hours, the doctor finally emerged from the emergency room.

Ethan, Martha, Lily, Mia, and David were all seated anxiously, tension thick in the air, waiting for any sign, any news.

The moment they saw him, they shot to their feet, hearts pounding—caught between hope and terror.

The doctor scanned their faces before speaking. "Family of Sophie Sinclair?"

"Yes," Ethan said immediately, his voice tight. "I'm her husband."

The doctor nodded, his expression serious but tinged with something lighter. Hope?

"We were able to stabilize both Sophie and the baby."

What?

Silence crashed over them.

"Baby?" Martha gasped, her voice cracking.

It was like a bomb had dropped into the room, obliterating every thought in Ethan's head. His chest tightened, his breath stalled. He saw the way everyone turned to look at him—waiting for his reaction, waiting for him to confirm what he hadn't even known.

His mind blanked.

Then, Martha glanced at Lily, who looked just as lost. Did she know? Did anyone know?

Finally, it was Mia who spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Sophie... she'd been feeling sick lately. I don't think even she knew."

The doctor exhaled, nodding in understanding. "That makes sense. We confirmed it through routine tests when she was admitted. She's about twelve weeks along."

Ethan didn't think he heard anything after that.

His world tilted. The floor felt like it was slipping out from under him.

Sophie was pregnant.

Sophie. And baby.

Those two words had just come out of the doctor's mouth—together.

His heart pounded so hard it drowned everything else out.

But then the doctor kept talking, and his voice cut through Ethan's spiraling thoughts like a blade.

"But..."

The shift in tone was sharp. Immediate.

Ethan's stomach twisted.

The doctor's face darkened. "She also suffered trauma to her brain. We've done everything we can, but brain injuries are unpredictable. Right now, her condition remains critical. It's uncertain when or if she'll wake up."

The words hit like a wrecking ball.

Lily was the first to break the silence, her voice raw. "So... even though she's stable, we don't know if she'll wake up?"

"Oh, God, why?" Martha sobbed behind him, grief bleeding into every syllable.

The doctor's gaze softened. "We have to hold on to hope," he said gently. "We'll monitor her closely, and we're doing everything in our power to help her recover."

Mia swallowed hard. "And the baby?" Her voice trembled. "Will... will it be okay?"

"As long as her vital signs remain stable, the baby should be fine," the doctor reassured.

Martha's tear-streaked face turned to him, pleading. "Can we see her? Just for a moment?"

"She'll be in the ICU under close monitoring," the doctor explained. "Normally, we don't allow visitors, but we can make an exception for one person." He glanced at Ethan. "Typically, that would be her husband."

Ethan felt the weight of all their eyes on him.

God, he wanted to see her. Needed to. But the thought of walking into that room, seeing her like that—hooked up to machines, so still when she was just laughing this morning—he didn't know if he could take it.

He forced himself to shake his head.

"No... it's alright," he murmured. His voice barely sounded like his own. "Martha, you should go. You should be with her."

Maybe it would help. Maybe it would make Martha feel better.

Maybe he was just too much of a coward to face Sophie like that.

The doctor nodded, then stepped away, leaving the room weighted with silence.

Ethan exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to his temple. Everything felt too loud and too far away at the same time.

"I'll take care of the paperwork," he said quietly. He just... needed space. "And make arrangements for when she's moved out of the ICU. Just... give me a moment."

Then he turned and walked off, his footsteps heavy, dragging.

"Ethan, wait—" Lily called after him, but David stopped her gently, shaking his head.

"Let him be, Lily," David said, his voice quiet but firm. "He needs time to process this."

Ethan moved down the corridor, each step heavier than the last, like weights dragging him down.

Sophie... his Sophie... was carrying their child.

And neither of them had even known.

They'd never really talked about kids. But he'd seen it—the way her face softened when she was around them. How she always had stories about the children who wandered into her shop, laughing about their antics, her eyes bright with that quiet, effortless warmth that was so her.

She would have been a wonderful mother. Will be, he corrected.

Because she had to wake up.

But she should have been the one to tell him.

He'd imagined it before, though he never admitted it to himself—how her face would light up with excitement, how she'd whisper the news to him like it was their own little secret, how they'd hold onto each other, grinning like idiots, already picturing their future.

Instead, he'd heard it from a doctor.

In a cold, sterile hospital hallway.

Not from Sophie's warm smile. Not from her soft, gentle voice.

And now... that moment was gone, tangled in wires and tubes, lost in the beeping of machines keeping her alive.

His chest caved under the weight of it all, and before he realized what he was doing, he slumped against the wall in an empty corridor, his hand dragging over his face. His body trembled as he tried to contain the tidal wave of emotions threatening to break him apart.

He couldn't face Martha or Lily right now. Not with the realization gnawing at the edges of his mind.

A realization he could no longer ignore.

This wasn't an accident.

The thought twisted inside him like a knife. He wanted to focus on Sophie, on their baby, on praying for the two people who meant everything to him. But the truth clawed its way to the surface, forcing him to look at the pieces scattered before him.

Someone had come for her.

Someone had tried to take Sophie away from him.

Again.

His breath hitched, fury bubbling beneath his grief. And as his mind raced, only one name came to him.

Robert.

Had his father found out about his plans to leave the company? Had he taken matters into his own hands, pulling strings like he always did—except this time, with consequences far more brutal?

If Robert had come for his pound of flesh...

Ethan's hands curled into fists. His blood roared in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the hospital around him. He couldn't sit here. He couldn't stay in this waiting room, helpless, hoping for justice to come from someone else.

He needed answers.

And there was only one person who could give them to him.

His legs moved before he could think.

He had to do this.

As he strode toward the exit, the world blurred around him—the sterile white walls, the nurses bustling past, the distant voices of people waiting for their own miracles.

None of it mattered.

All he could think about was him.

His father.

The man who had always controlled him. Controlled everything. And now, maybe even this.

He could not forgive.

But just as he reached the sliding doors, they opened—and he nearly collided with his mother.

Evelyn.

She rushed inside, pale, breathless, her eyes wide with fear.

For a moment, they stood frozen in each other's path.

His gaze, burning with rage.

Hers, filled with quiet, desperate understanding.

And in that one look, she seemed to know.

She grabbed his arm immediately.

Ethan exhaled sharply, his jaw tight. His voice was low, firm. Final.

"No. Not this time," he said. "Please. Let me go."

Evelyn's grip only tightened, her fingers digging in like she could anchor him in place. Her voice trembled, thick with desperation.

"No," she whispered. "Please, Ethan, don't go."

But he exhaled, jaw clenched, and gently uncurled her grip from his sleeve, stepping back.

"Ethan, no!" she cried again, voice thick with desperation.

He didn't slow.

Didn't stop.

Didn't look back.

He climbed into the car, started the engine, and pulled away, leaving his mother standing in the parking lot, watching him go—tears streaking her face.

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