I was ten months pregnant when labor began in the dead of night. My husband, Ryan, woken by the commotion, his face a mask of ice, reluctantly took me to the hospital in a taxi. The driver was clearly a novice; the car barely crawled. My contractions surged, growing more excruciating with each passing minute. I could only plead with Ryan: “Ryan, you’re a race car driver! Please, you drive. Faster, I can’t bear this pain.” His refusal was absolute, cutting through the air like a knife: “Every woman experiences pain in childbirth. I’m a professional race car driver, not some chauffeur. I won’t drive for anyone!” Before he could finish, my water broke. I crumpled into the back seat, tears streaming down my face as I pleaded again: “Ryan, my water just broke! Please, can’t you drive? Do it for the baby, if not for me.” He shot me a look of pure disgust and barked, “Pull over.” For a desperate moment, I thought he was finally going to take the wheel. Instead, he simply opened the passenger-side door. “It’s too cramped in the back. I’ll ride shotgun.” I closed my eyes, a wave of despair washing over me. If anything happened to my baby, Ryan Brooke, then we were over. Done. 1 When we finally reached the hospital, I was a writhing mess of pain, every stitch of clothing soaked through with sweat. Only when I was lifted onto the gurney did a sliver of safety settle within me. My baby, Mommy will protect you! “No good! Fetal heart rate is too weak! Get her to the delivery room immediately, prepare for C-section!” the examining doctor yelled in a frantic rush. I was whisked away, a flurry of hands pushing me into the operating theater. Strapped to a myriad of monitoring machines, I was already fading in and out of consciousness from the agony. “Patient has high blood pressure, critical condition! Get a family member to sign!” The attending physician called my name, “Eleanor Vance, is your family here?” I struggled to pry my eyes open, dimly registering the long corridor outside. My voice was a raw whisper, laced with tears, “My husband… he’s here.” A nurse rushed back in, “We can’t find the patient’s family!” “Call them! Get a signature, now!” the doctor ordered. What was going on? Hadn’t Ryan just come in with me? How could he just vanish? Gritting my teeth against the searing pain, I fumbled for my phone in my pocket. “Use mine, quickly!” The doctor snatched it, only to be met by the robotic voice: “Hello, the number you have dialed is currently busy…” The automated message looped, over and over. The doctor beside me decisively hung up. “Eleanor Vance, can you sign yourself?” I nodded weakly, pain incapacitating me. Clutching the pen, I fumbled through the signature, then gripped the doctor’s hand. “Please, you must save my baby!” “We’ll do our best,” the attending physician murmured, patting my hand before the surgery began. There was no time for proper anesthesia, the IV drip offering only the faintest relief. I felt my abdomen being sliced open, raw and visceral. To avoid distracting the doctors, I bit down hard on my lip, stifling every scream. As long as my baby lived, I could endure anything. Finally, the baby was out, but no cry met my ears. My consciousness began to fray. “No! She’s hemorrhaging!” I felt my lifeblood drain away, the bone-shattering pain fading into a strange, comfortable numbness. I was so, so tired, and a chill began to set in. “My baby… where is my baby…?” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. The doctor’s voice broke through: “The baby is being resuscitated. No matter what happens to the child, you cannot give up on yourself. We are doing everything to save you.” I knew, deep down, I was losing my child. A strange peace settled over me, and I felt my grip on consciousness loosen. Dying like this… it seemed fine. “Patient’s heart rate dropping, losing will to live!” a medical staff member shouted. Through the haze, the attending physician made another call. This time, it connected. The doctor let out a sigh of relief. My hearing, strangely, was incredibly sharp in that moment. “Is this Eleanor Vance’s family? Her condition is extremely critical right now.” Before the doctor could finish, Ryan Brooke’s voice cut in, sharp and impatient: “I already brought her to the hospital. Saving her is your job as doctors. What can I possibly do? Besides, I’m saving someone too!” Then, a tearful female voice wafted from the phone: “Ryan, darling, I’m in so much pain…” Ryan abruptly hung up, leaving only the droning dial tone. I knew he didn’t care for me, but facing his utter heartlessness still sent a dull, throbbing ache through me, so profound it threatened to pull me back into unconsciousness. Then, a familiar voice pierced through the haze: “My sweet girl, hold on! Your mother is waiting for you to come home, to be a family again. Your father and I don’t blame you anymore. Marry him if you want, just please, be well. If anything happens to you, your mother won’t want to live either…” My mother’s choked sobs broke through, and tears streamed down my face. Yes, I had my parents. It had been years since I’d seen them, and they were waiting for me to come home. “Patient’s heart rate is improving! Alert the blood bank, get blood supplies here!” “Full resuscitation! Notify all departments, Level One mobilization!” I felt a swarm of medical personnel surround me. “Don’t you dare give up on yourself for anyone! Your father and I will always love you. We’re waiting for you to come home…” My mother’s voice flooded me with strength, and I felt energy surge back into my body. My mother’s voice was cut short by the ringing of a phone. The attending physician glanced at it, then offered a small comfort, “Your husband is calling you.” 2 “Eleanor Vance, quickly, what’s Martha’s number? Chloe’s sick, I need Martha to come take care of her for a while. I’m sure you’ll be fine managing the baby on your own, the doctor said you didn’t even get anesthesia for your C-section. I have faith in you.” A metallic, coppery taste flooded my mouth. I lurched forward, spitting a spray of blood onto the doctor’s white coat. The attending physician immediately snatched my phone away. “Are you even human? Your wife is still fighting for her life! Do you care about her at all?!” “I know my wife’s constitution perfectly well. She can drink a whole table of men under for my sponsorships. She’s tougher than any man. A little pain, a bit of blood—that’s nothing to her!” “No life is a small matter, and sacrifice deserves respect! A husband like you doesn’t deserve your wife fighting for her life to bear your child!” The doctor’s last words were practically hissed through gritted teeth. “I’m saving someone too! My assistant is ill. Is my wife’s life more valuable than someone else’s?!” “Besides, my wife willingly had this child for me. She hasn’t said a word, so who are you, a complete stranger, to criticize me? Be careful, I’ll file a complaint against you in a moment!” The doctor wasted no more words. She hung up the phone, came to my side, and gently took my hand. “Child, don’t give up on yourself. All of us, the entire medical staff, will fight for you with everything we have.” “He’s not worth it! Not for a man like him!” No, he wasn’t worth it. I still had my mother, waiting for me to come home. I squeezed the doctor’s hand back, a faint whisper escaping my lips: “Doctor… save me…” After battling Death for ten grueling hours, countless units of blood pumped into my veins, the doctors pulling me back from the brink of the abyss multiple times, they finally dragged me back from death’s door and transferred me to the ICU. I don’t know how much more time passed, but I gradually drifted back to a hazy awareness, though my eyes still refused to open. Two nurses were checking my monitors nearby. “Did you see the news? Ryan Brooke, the number one race car driver, last night he drove his girlfriend to the hospital, hazard lights flashing, blowing through ten red lights!” “I saw it! The whole city is talking about it, it’s all over social media. I heard the surgical head nurse say the girl only had a few scrapes. But it panicked Ryan like crazy, apparently.” They glanced at me. One sighed, “Some men are just different. Her husband, well…” They shook their heads in unison and left the room. They had no idea that Ryan Brooke was my husband. My eyes burned, and tears silently tracked down my temples as I slipped back into unconsciousness. I wondered about my baby. Oh, how I longed to hold him… 3 The first thing I did when I fully regained consciousness was to grab the doctor’s hand beside me. “Doctor, my baby? Where is my baby?” The doctor’s face lit up with relief at my awakening, then immediately fell. “I’m so sorry. We did everything we could. The baby was in the birth canal for too long, oxygen deprivation…” My brow furrowed in agony, as if my very heart had been ripped from my chest. She paused, then added, “Child, life is still long. There will be other chances.” I suddenly recognized that voice. Peering at her familiar, masked face, I realized she was the attending physician who had saved my life. “Thank you, Doctor. Thank you for saving me.” “It was my duty. Just try to keep your spirits up. You’ll be transferred to a regular room today.” I closed my eyes, memories flashing. I had defied my parents for Ryan, staying in the country to marry him. He loved racing, so I became his agent, supporting him every step of the way until he became the nation’s top race car driver. In the beginning, I endured countless snubs just to secure him a spot in a race. I drank endless rounds of alcohol for sponsorships, often ending up hospitalized with stomach bleeding. Everyone in the racing world knew I was a top agent, and they also knew I only represented one driver: Ryan Brooke, his exclusive agent. After he found success, we kept our marriage private for the sake of his public image. To boost his fame and appeal, he became the ultimate racing knight in the eyes of countless young women. Now, I was leaving. And everything I had given him, I would reclaim. The first thing I did in the regular hospital room was to contact a lawyer and draft divorce papers. The lawyer sat by my bedside, asking, “Are you sure you want to go through with this divorce?” Silently, I tapped open my phone. Sure enough, the news story the nurses had mentioned dominated my feed. “#RyanBrooke: Top Race Car Driver Risks All For Love!” “#BlewThroughTenRedLightsToRushGirlfriendToHospital!” “#RyanBrooke’s All-Night Vigil: Caring For Girlfriend For 24 Hours!” My baby died while he was rushing his girlfriend to the hospital. My life hung by a thread while he was tending to his girlfriend. He wouldn’t drive me, suffering in childbirth, yet he blew through ten red lights for his girlfriend. Chloe Green had just posted an update: “My knight is always there, ready to face anything for me. So touched, I’ll love you forever!” The accompanying picture showed my husband gently feeding her porridge. Then you two can be chained together for eternity. I’ll make sure of it! I looked up, meeting the lawyer’s gaze with unwavering resolve. “Absolutely. Please have the papers ready today.” After booking a flight out of the country for the next day, I dialed a number. “Hello, Martha? I’m being discharged tomorrow. Could you come pick me up from the hospital?” Martha’s voice on the other end was hesitant, fumbling. “Ma’am, Mr. Brooke… he asked me to come take care of… Miss Green.” The phone was snatched away, Ryan’s voice laced with mocking amusement. “You’re getting discharged so quickly? Didn’t the doctors say your condition was critical? I knew they were exaggerating. You’re not that easy to kill, are you?” “Why do you need someone to pick you up? Just take a taxi home. What woman doesn’t give birth? So dramatic.” I was about to speak when Chloe’s saccharine voice cooed from his end: “Ryan, darling, my foot hurts…” “Can’t talk, I need to take care of my patient now.” The call was abruptly cut off. He hadn’t even asked about the baby. He truly didn’t deserve to be a father. And yet, my heart was strangely devoid of any ripple of emotion. Chloe Green was the assistant I’d hired for him, worried that my pregnancy would prevent me from fully managing his races. I had no idea when they’d started their affair. But I knew, if it wasn't her, it would have been someone else. It takes two to tango. When a heart changes, an affair is only a matter of time. I almost sacrificed my precious life for a man like him. He absolutely didn’t deserve it! He’d taken so much from me. I would reclaim every single thing.
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