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He Delivered Her Baby and Let Ours Die
Novelix
Completed
I'm ten hours into labor when my husband walks in and tells me he has to go deliver another woman's baby. His foster sister's. The one he got pregnant behind my back. My parents take his side. The nurses ignore me. I end up on a bed in the hallway with dry bread and a yellowed blanket while she gets gourmet meals and a private suite. When my daughter spikes a fever that night, I call everyone. Nobody comes. By the time I make it halfway to the NICU, my baby has no heartbeat. But I'm not the woman they think I am. I recorded every call. Saved every text. Got myself a lawyer before the cord blood was even dry. They wanted rules? I'll show them what rules look like.
Chapters (3)
第1章
I'm ten hours into labor when my husband finally walks in. He's the top OB-GYN at this hospital.
First thing out of his mouth: "Chloe just went into labor. I need to go deliver her baby. A resident can handle yours."
Chloe. My parents' foster daughter.
I grab his fingers. It takes everything I have.
"Ethan, I'm your wife."
He pulls his hand free without blinking.
"That's exactly why I can't stay. People will say I'm pulling strings for you."
"If I stay in your room, it looks bad. You know how this hospital works."
I don't let go. I'm begging him to stay.
That's when my parents walk in. My dad puts his hand on my shoulder. My mom takes my other hand.
She leans in close. "Sophia, we need to tell you something. Chloe's baby is Ethan's."
My whole body goes cold.
"He didn't want to stress you out while you were pregnant. Do you know how hard that was for him?"
"For once in your life, just let this go. Let him deliver his own child."
I stare at the surgical light above me. There's a ringing in my ears that won't stop.
I don't know how much time passes. Could be minutes. Or hours.
Then they put her in my arms.
My daughter. So tiny.
My voice is shaking when I whisper to her.
"Baby, it's gonna be just you and me from now on. Okay?"
I come out of the delivery room.
No flowers. No one waiting.
Just my phone glowing on the side table.
A text from my mom: "If your dad and I show up, the nurses will feel pressured to give you special treatment. We can't have that."
A group of nurses walk past, gossiping like they don't care who hears.
"Oh my God, did you hear? Dr. Lawson's foster daughter had her baby today."
"Dr. Lawson told everyone on this floor to give her the VIP treatment. Went room to room telling everyone."
"She even sent this massive bouquet to her room."
"They're not even blood related. Honestly she treats that girl better than her own daughter."
I close my eyes.
This hurts worse than anything that happened in that delivery room.
The rooms are all full. The head nurse recognizes me and calls Ethan directly.
"Dr. Ethan Mercer, hey, it's the head nurse. Listen, your wife's here. I'll get her into a private room, don't even worry about it."
His voice comes through the speaker. Cold.
"Treat her the same as everyone else."
"There's no reason she should get special treatment while everyone else suffers."
I just went through hell to give him a child.
And he kicks me aside.
I press my face against my daughter's tiny red cheek. Tears run down my face. I'm shaking from rage.
After arguing with three different nurses, I end up on a bed in the hallway.
Ethan walks right past me with a stack of patient files.
My daughter cries out from hunger. Weak, barely there.
He slows down for a second. Then he keeps walking.
The med students trailing behind him are laughing about something.
"Bet you he's heading to see his wife."
"Oh yeah, she's in the private suite upstairs. He literally went to the chief and begged for that room."
I'm curled up in this loud, cramped hallway.
So who exactly are they calling his wife?
Chloe. It's Chloe.
This man never begs anyone for anything. But for her, he begged.
My stitches start seeping. A sharp pain shoots through me.
I can't let myself think about this anymore.
My daughter's face is bright red from crying.
I have nothing to give her. No milk.
I press the nurse call button and beg for a meal. Anything to get my milk going.
I wait and wait.
Finally a nurse comes back with a few dry pieces of bread.
She looks embarrassed.
"Dr. Mercer said all postpartum patients are on the same meal plan. He specifically said no special treatment. His exact words."
I take the bread without a word.
A few minutes later, I open Instagram. Chloe's latest post.
"Hubby made me a strict meal plan and says I have to finish every bite. I'm gonna get so fat lol."
The photo shows gourmet food prepared by a private nutritionist. Fish. Shrimp. Everything.
Her son is sleeping peacefully in an expensive bassinet. Pink cheeks. Healthy.
My daughter is wrapped in a yellowed old blanket. Her tiny face is turning purple.
So that's what "avoiding favoritism" means. It only applies to me.
I've put up with it long enough. But now my baby has to suffer the same fate.
I'm done.
I can't stay in this family anymore.
第2章
My daughter keeps sucking on her tiny fist. She's starving.
I force myself to chew the stale bread, washing it down with water as fast as I can.
I eat too fast. The dry crust scrapes my throat raw.
I manage to choke down several pieces. They swell up in my stomach. I want to throw up.
But even after all that, I still can't produce milk.
My daughter starts crying in my arms. Desperate little sounds.
"Sweetheart, give the baby this."
The old woman in the bed across from me holds out a warm bowl of oatmeal.
She looks at me the way nobody else has today. The pity and kindness.
I swallow hard and thank her.
"Where's the baby's father? Why isn't he here taking care of you two?"
I don't answer. I can't exactly say her dad's next door taking care of another woman's kid.
I blow on the oatmeal again and again, then carefully bring it to my daughter's lips.
"Stop!"
Ethan rushes over and smacks the bowl out of my hands.
His eyes behind those gold-rimmed glasses are ice cold.
"Do you have any idea she can't digest this?"
The hot oatmeal splashes all over my legs. Scalding.
I pull my daughter to my chest on instinct.
Ethan scoffs.
"What, you can't even hold a bowl now? Give me a break."
That look in his eyes. He thinks I'm faking it for sympathy.
I force my chin up and look him straight in the eye.
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
"She's starving. A few pieces of bread aren't enough for me to produce milk."
He frowns.
"So this is my fault now?"
"Maybe if you'd actually eaten during your pregnancy instead of skipping meals, you wouldn't be this weak."
Like I had a choice.
I couldn't keep anything down. Severe morning sickness the entire time. Everything I ate came right back up.
I thought Ethan knew. He spent months writing that whole pregnancy journal. I was so touched by it.
Now I realize all those notes that didn't quite match my symptoms. That journal was never about me.
It was about Chloe.
And I actually believed it was for me. Read it over and over.
My throat burns. I clench my jaw.
He stares at me for a long second. His jaw tightens. Finally his voice softens a little.
"We're in a hospital. I can't be seen giving you special treatment. People will call it abuse of power."
"I'll go get a bottle for her."
"But this is the last time. Don't ask again."
He leaves. Comes back quick.
"Chloe made this herself. Give it to her."
The bottle is old and yellowed. Like somebody pulled it out of a trash can.
Every part of me wants to throw it in his face. But my daughter is hungry. So I take it.
I test the temperature on my wrist, then gently bring it to my daughter's mouth.
She sucks twice, then bursts out wailing.
The milk she spits up reeks. Sour. Rotten.
I panic, wiping the residue from her tiny mouth with a cloth.
He won't even look at me. Just jumps straight to Chloe's defense.
"She probably mixed it wrong. She didn't mean to."
"Besides, babies are tougher than you think. Don't be so dramatic."
He barely finishes talking when Chloe calls out from next door. That soft, helpless voice of hers.
"Ethan, the baby suddenly won't eat. What do I do?"
He's out the door before I can blink. Already on the phone with the pediatrics team, telling them to get over there now.
Funny how all those rules go out the window when it's her.
He does panic. He does care. Just not about us.
I rest my head against my daughter's soft cheek.
Something inside me just went quiet.
The old woman walks over and sighs.
"Sweetheart, a man like that ain't worth keeping."
I nod.
"Yeah. I'm done."
第3章
A kind nurse brings me a bottle. My daughter drinks it all in a rush, then finally closes her thin little eyelids and falls asleep.
But less than an hour later, some guy shouting into his phone in the hallway wakes her up.
I carry her to Ethan's office.
"I need a room."
"Denied."
He doesn't look up from his charts.
"Everyone in this hospital has eyes on me. I can't pull strings to get you a room."
I back down a little.
"Then can we just rest in your office? Nobody's gonna talk about that."
Ethan raises his head.
"If you're both in here, how am I supposed to work?"
Ethan's been a workaholic since the day I met him in college. He barely replies to my texts. When he does, it's just "k."
I always thought he was that way with everyone.
But right in front of me, he picks up Chloe's call on the first ring. His voice goes soft and warm.
"Don't worry about it. I'll come burp the baby."
"Mm, it's fine. Work can wait. You can't."
Oh, so he does know how to burp a baby.
Our daughter has been alive for a day and he hasn't held her once.
I grab his arm.
"Ethan, why does Chloe get the private suite while me and our daughter are shoved in a hallway?"
He looks down at me. The coldness in his eyes makes me step back.
"You're really gonna act like you don't know why?"
"That winter. You pushed Chloe into the pool. She's had health problems ever since."
"Without me taking care of her, she would've died on the operating table."
"Sophia, you just can't stand seeing her okay, can you?"
I open my mouth. I've said it a hundred times. They never listen.
I didn't push her. But they only believe her tears. They made up their minds years ago.
Ethan smirks.
"That's the difference between you and her."
"If she found out you were doing well, she'd be genuinely happy for you."
"But you? You're never satisfied. You're always losing your mind over nothing."
I clench my fists. My nails dig into my palms.
He's already walking away.
He's the one who pulled me close and said he wanted a baby with me. I thought we were getting better.
I never thought we'd end up here.
I hold my daughter tight and say it quietly.
"If that's how you see me, then there's nothing left to say."
"Ethan, let's get a divorce."
His back goes stiff for a second.
I've been standing too long. The pain in my belly comes in waves. I lean on the desk to steady myself.
I open the door. A young nurse is standing right outside.
"Ms. Lawson, Dr. Mercer asked me to take you to a room."
The girl looks at me a few times, then asks in a low voice.
"What's Dr. Mercer to you?"
"I heard he picked up another doctor's weekend shift to get you this room."
I almost laugh.
"Just a friend."
Finally a real room where I can sleep.
I rock my daughter to sleep, patting her back real soft.
Her tiny chest rises and falls. Peaceful for the first time since she was born.
I pull out my phone and contact the best lawyer I can find.
The lawyer texts back fast. "Get me proof. Save everything. Calls, texts, photos. All of it."
Ethan keeps talking about rules. Fine. Let the rules judge him.
If this family won't protect my daughter, the law will.
But after a while, her skin feels too hot under my hand.
