Every conversation in the waiting area stopped.

The doctor’s bloodstained gloves caught the fluorescent lights as his eyes swept across the room.

“Who is the baby’s father?” he demanded.

For one terrifying second, no one moved.

Then I stepped forward.

“I am.”

Madison spun toward me.

“What?”

Her voice cracked.

“You just said—”

“I said I’m the father.”

The words tasted strange.

Not because they were uncertain.

Because I had only just admitted them to myself.

The doctor looked me up and down.

“Name?”

“Adrian Cross.”

He checked the chart.

His expression shifted.

“You’re the former spouse.”

“Yes.”

“She never removed your emergency authorization.”

My heart stopped.

Even after everything…

Elena had never erased my name.

The doctor motioned toward a quieter hallway.

“Come with me.”

Madison grabbed my arm.

“No.”

“You’re here because of me.”

“You promised we’d spend tonight together.”

I gently removed her hand.

“This isn’t about you anymore.”

Her face hardened.

“She divorced you.”

“She obviously wanted someone else.”

I looked directly at her.

“There is no one else.”

“She wouldn’t be carrying another man’s child.”

Madison stared at me as though I had become a stranger.

Then she laughed bitterly.

“So I’m just supposed to stand here while you run after your ex-wife?”

I didn’t answer.

Because there was nothing left to say.

Jonas quietly stepped between us.

“Ms. Chen.”

“I think it’s best if you head home.”

She looked at me one last time.

“If you walk through that door… don’t bother calling me again.”

The elevator closed behind her before I realized she was gone.

I followed the doctor into a consultation room.

He closed the door.

“Elena is critically ill.”

My chest tightened.

“She has severe peripartum cardiomyopathy.”

“Her heart is failing under the strain of pregnancy.”

“She’ll likely need an emergency delivery tonight.”

I struggled to breathe.

“Will she survive?”

“We’re doing everything possible.”

He opened the chart.

“There’s something else.”

He turned one page toward me.

Under Emergency Contact, only one name appeared.

Adrian Cross.

No parents.

No siblings.

No friends.

Just me.

“She never changed it?” I asked quietly.

“No.”

The doctor hesitated.

“She also refused every offer to contact anyone else.”

I closed my eyes.

Eight months.

Eight months of carrying my child alone.

Eight months of doctor’s appointments.

Fear.

Morning sickness.

Hospital visits.

Every single one without me.

“Why didn’t she tell me?”

The doctor shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

“But I do know she kept attending every prenatal appointment.”

He handed me another document.

“These were found in her belongings.”

Inside the plastic evidence bag lay a worn leather wallet.

An ultrasound photograph.

And an envelope with my name written across the front.

For Adrian.

My hands trembled as I opened it.

Inside was a single folded letter.

The first line stole the air from my lungs.

If you’re reading this, it means I was too late to tell you the truth myself.

Before I could continue, alarms suddenly echoed through the hallway.

A nurse burst into the room.

“Doctor!”

“We’re losing her!”

He ran without another word.

I remained frozen…

…the unfinished letter shaking in my hands while somewhere beyond those doors, the woman I had once loved was fighting for her life—and our unborn child.