Chapter 3

We were just one final administrative stamp away from Lucas’s transfer papers being processed.

Leaning on my crutches, I stepped out of the office and suddenly doubled over, dry-heaving violently into a trash can.

Seeing how pale I was, a passing nurse grabbed my arm and dragged me into the lab for a blood draw.

When the lab results printed, I stared at the paper in stunned silence.

Four weeks pregnant.

The child had been conceived the night Julian came home.

The night he stopped by Chloe's place first, only to slip into my bed in the early hours of the morning.

In the dark, he had buried his face in my neck, whispering how much he missed me.

Now, the exact same timeline was written across two different pregnancy reports.

I folded the slip of paper carefully into my pocket, choosing not to call him.

With Lucas’s transfer pending, I wanted to wait until we were both out of harm's way before deciding what to do with this child.

But the moment I limped past the lab doors, a frantic shout echoed down the ICU corridor.

"Where is Lucas Hall's family?!"

My crutch slipped on the polished floor. A cold dread gripped my chest.

I practically crawled the rest of the way to the ICU doors.

On the monitor, the rhythmic green spikes had flattened into a single, piercing, continuous line.

The doctors were still frantically shocking his chest. Lucas’s body jolted with every jolt of electricity, only to fall limply back onto the mattress.

I pounded on the glass, screaming his name, but no one looked up.

Five minutes later, the doctor stopped, lowered his head, and pulled off his surgical mask.

"I'm so sorry. We did everything we could."

A nurse with tear-streaked eyes came out to me.

"Miss Chloe came in earlier with a VIP clearance pass signed by Dr. Vance."

"She played a recording of you kneeling in the hallway yesterday for Lucas... She told him that he was nothing but a burden ruining your life."

"Lucas became violently agitated. It triggered a massive pulmonary hemorrhage."

My heart turned to ash.

When our parents died in that car crash years ago, Lucas had held my hand through a burning fever, crying and promising he’d stop getting sick so he wouldn't be a burden to his big sister.

Even at the moment of his death, his greatest terror had been weighing me down.

I went into medicine just to save him. And in the end, it was my presence in this hospital that killed him.

A violent cramp seized my stomach, and bile mixed with blood surged up my throat.

My hand brushed against a pair of surgical shears left on the nurse’s station.

I grabbed them, squeezed them tight against my palm, and plunged straight toward the elevator.

The city’s medical convention center was only two blocks from the hospital.

Julian was currently on stage, accepting the Young Medical Researcher of the Year award.

When I kicked the auditorium doors open, the spotlight was shining directly on him.

He stood tall in a tailored tuxedo, wearing the exact bowtie I had hand-ironed for him.

The hall was erupting with thunderous applause.

Dragging my cast across the stage, I grabbed the heavy glass trophy from the podium and smashed it onto the stage floor.

The shattering explosion of glass silenced the entire room.

"Julian, Lucas is dead."

His face drained of color, his gaze instantly locking onto the surgical shears clenched in my hand.

"Chloe used your clearance pass to get into his room and killed him," I rasped, my voice shredded and hollow.

"Hand her over."

In the front row, Chloe covered her mouth, letting out a theatrical sob.

"I only went in to cheer him up... How was I supposed to know he was that fragile..."

I gripped the shears and lunged toward her.

Julian cut me off, grabbing both my wrists in a vice-like grip.

"Clara, pull yourself together!"

"Your brother was critically ill; an acute crisis could have happened at any moment!" he hissed under his breath. "Don’t humiliate everyone here. I had no idea she was actually going to visit him."

His grip tightened until my bones groaned, and then his voice projected loudly for the audience:

"She's having an acute manic episode because she couldn't handle the breakup."

"It's okay, Clara. Give me the shears. Calm down, and I promise I'll take good care of you."

Campus security swarmed the stage, pinning me face-down against the cold floorboards.

Through the haze, I saw Julian kneel in front of me.

He reached out, brushing away the strands of hair glued to my forehead with dried blood. A faint flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes.

"Good girl, Clara. Just listen to me."

Hearing that pet name made me freeze for a split second.

Over the past four years, whenever I was overwhelmed, that was what he called me.

He used to talk me to sleep across a six-hour time zone difference, stay up with me through Lucas's critical nights, and wait out endless lab results by my side.

I almost blurted out that I was carrying his child.

The very next second, he pulled a pre-filled sedative syringe from his inner pocket and shoved the needle into my neck without a shred of hesitation.

The ice-cold chemical burned through my veins.

Julian let go of me, standing up and wrapping an arm protectively around Chloe.

"Call the psychiatric evaluation transport," he said, slipping smoothly back into his dignified professional persona. "She's violent and dangerous. Do not agitate her any further."

Before the darkness swallowed me whole, all I could hear was the screeching wail of sirens outside the hall.