Chapter 5—EX-HUSBAND.

BREA

"Good morning, Amelia."

"Good morning, Brea. How was your night? Did you sleep better?"

"I did. Surprisingly."

"That's great news," she said.

"It is."

From the corridor, outside our office, we could hear voices greeting someone. "Good morning sir,"

"Good morning," the voice answered.

The more the greetings came, the more the voice became clearer. Our office window was a transparent glass window that allowed us to see outside what was happening. Just then, Doctor Knox appeared in the hallways. "Good morning sir," Amelia shouted. I looked at her and looked at him shocked. He walked to the door of our office and stood.

"Good morning sir,"

"Good morning, Brea. Did you sleep well?" He asked.

"I did," I said and cleared my throat.

"Have a great day," he said, then winked at me and left.

"What was that about?" Amelia asked.

"What was what about? I asked, feigning ignorance and confusion.

"Did he just ignore my greeting and answer yours? And what was that wink about?" She looked at me with the eyes of spill that gist.

"Is something up between you two?" She raised an eyebrow.

I almost choked. "What do you mean? There's nothing like that. Besides, maybe something entered his eyes. I don't think that was a wink. You saw wrong."

"Hm…" she looked into my eyes. "Are you sure?"

"I am," I said, forcing myself to hold her gaze even though my heart was beating far too fast.

Amelia studied me for another second before finally shrugging.

"If you say so."

"I do."

She opened her mouth to tease me again, but before she could speak, frantic shouting echoed through the corridor outside.

"Please! Somebody help my son!"

The desperation in the man's voice sliced through the morning chatter.

"Please!" he cried again. "He's bleeding! Somebody help him!"

Every doctor in the hallway immediately sprang into action.

I was already on my feet.

"So much for a peaceful morning," Amelia muttered as we rushed toward the commotion.

A small crowd had formed around a man kneeling on the floor with a little boy cradled in his arms. Blood soaked the child's hair, running down the side of his tiny face and onto his father's clothes.

"Please save him," the man begged, his voice breaking. "Please... I don't want my son to die."

"Sir, you need to stay calm," one of the nurses said, trying to guide him toward an examination trolley.

"I can't calm down!" he shouted. "Look at him!"

I pushed through the crowd.

"Everyone, give us some space."

The nurses stepped aside immediately.

"Doctor Brea."

I knelt beside the child without hesitation.

"Get me a penlight," I ordered.

A nurse placed one in my hand almost instantly.

I gently lifted one of the boy's eyelids and shone the light into his pupil.

Slow reaction.

Not good.

"What happened?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

The man answered between broken breaths.

"He... he was playing upstairs."

I continued my assessment, carefully feeling around the child's skull.

"There appears to be swelling."

"He climbed onto the balcony while playing with the maid. She looked away for a second, and..." His voice cracked completely. "He fell."

My stomach tightened.

"How high?"

"Second floor."

Around twelve feet. Maybe more.

"Has he regained consciousness at all?"

He shook his head frantically.

"No."

"Has he vomited?"

"No."

"Any seizures?"

"No."

I nodded sharply.

"Good. Amelia, call radiology. I want an emergency CT scan prepared immediately. Notify the operating room that we may be coming up."

"Already on it."

I looked back at the child.

"We need to move now."

The father reached for my arm.

"Doctor..."

His hand trembled violently.

"Please save him."

There was something painfully familiar about his voice.

Something I hadn't heard in years.

A chill ran down my spine.

Slowly...

Almost against my own will, I lifted my eyes and the world stopped.

Everything around me faded.

The voices.

The footsteps.

The beeping monitors.

Even my own breathing.

I knew that face.

I had memorized every line of it once upon a time.

Those blue eyes.

That dark hair.

That strong jaw.

Five years had passed.

Five years.

Yet I would have recognized him anywhere.

Michael.

My ex-husband.

The man who had stood before my best friend and rejected me.

The man who had called me barren.

The man who had shattered my heart so completely that I fled my home carrying our unborn son.

He looked older and more tired.

There were faint lines around his eyes that hadn't existed before.

For one impossible second, neither of us moved.

He hadn't recognized me yet.

His entire attention remained fixed on the unconscious little boy lying between us.

I couldn't breathe.

My hands suddenly felt numb.

Images crashed into my mind without warning.

Rhonda.

Her swollen stomach.

Michael kissing her belly.

"I reject you as my mate."

"I've waited three years."

"Tomorrow, the territory will know Rhonda and her child are my future."

The memories hit so hard that I instinctively took one step backward.

The movement caught his attention.

He finally looked up.

His eyes landed on my face.

Confusion flashed across them.

Then disbelief.

The color drained from his face.

His lips parted.

The room fell completely silent.

"...Brea?"