Chapter 3

I sent Yves a screenshot of the final bid.

[This is what you call fair?]

His answer came almost immediately.

[Yvette bid more.]

[With what money? She took $800,000 from Lucy's surgery fund, and now she's bidding with money you gave her.]

[The money became hers the moment I gave it to her. Keep bidding if you want. Don't start questioning the rules just because you lost.]

I had $2000 left in the account.

There was nothing more to say.

Yves didn't show up for the pre-op meeting the next morning.

The doctor explained that they still needed a detailed medical history from Yves's side of the family, and because Lucy's surgery was high-risk, both parents needed to review the consent forms. I photographed every page and sent them to him one by one.

He read them all.

Half an hour passed without a reply. Then a picture arrived from Yvette instead.

Yves was at her studio in a paint-spattered white shirt, rolling blue paint onto the wall.

[Stop bothering him, Jenna. Yves promised he'd stay until we finished painting.]

I shut off my phone and went through the paperwork with the doctor alone.

That was the last I saw of Yves for the next three days.

Then Lucy's preschool called to tell me she'd been suspended.

When I arrived, the office was already crowded with angry parents. Somehow, they all knew how serious Lucy's heart condition was. One demanded to know who would be responsible if she collapsed in class. Another shoved a phone at me before I could even ask what was going on.

Yvette's studio account had posted an article.

[A truly independent woman doesn't use her child or an illness to manipulate her partner. No one has unlimited time to give. If you want respect, start by respecting the rules.]

The comments had already identified Lucy's preschool. Someone had also posted the hospital video of me slapping Yvette, carefully edited to remove everything that had led up to it. It showed me striking her, then cut to me bowing my head and apologizing.

That was the story everyone had been given.

Lucy was hiding behind her teacher, her face drained of color, when one of the boys pointed at her.

"Your mom hits people, and your dad doesn't even want you."

I pulled her against me and asked the teacher who had put the video in the parents' group.

The teacher hesitated. "Her father. He requested the suspension as her legal guardian. He said Lucy was aggressive and had pushed Ms. Xavier."

A chill went through me.

For Yvette, Yves hadn't just jeopardized his own daughter's surgery. Now he was personally having her removed from school.

Lucy twisted a fistful of my shirt between her fingers. "Mommy, I didn't hit anybody."

"I know, sweetheart."

I carried her out while the other parents whispered behind us.

"No wonder her dad would rather be with someone else."

"Poor kid. Imagine having a mother like that."

Lucy heard them. I could feel her trembling against me all the way down the hall.

We hadn't even made it past the stairwell when she clutched her chest.

Her breathing turned ragged almost instantly. Then her lips began to turn blue.

I called 911 and, while we waited for the ambulance, tried calling Yves. He declined the first call. On the second, Yvette answered.

"What do you want now, Jenna?"

"Put Yves on. Lucy's having an attack."

"Today's the studio's media open house. Why do you always have to cause a scene when something important is happening to me?"

"Give him the phone!"

My voice shook from how hard I shouted.

A moment later, Yves finally came on. "Where is she?"

"At preschool. The ambulance isn't here yet, and her emergency medication is in the medical kit in your car. You're five minutes away. Bring it now."

He offered to send the driver.

"There isn't time. She can barely breathe!"

Yvette's voice drifted through the background, reminding him that the press had arrived.

For several seconds, Yves said nothing. Then he decided his assistant could bike the medication over in fifteen minutes.

"She doesn't have fifteen minutes!"

"Jenna, calm down. You're only going to make her more agitated."

Then he hung up.

Lucy was already going limp in my arms.

I couldn't wait for the ambulance anymore. I ran outside carrying her, begging passing drivers to take us to the hospital until someone finally stopped.

I had barely gotten Lucy into the back seat when a black sedan came through the intersection.

I knew that car.

Yves was sitting inside.

He was five minutes from the preschool after all. He'd heard me say his daughter couldn't breathe. He'd heard me beg him to bring the medication that might help her.

And he'd still chosen to go to Yvette's studio.

"Yves! Stop!"

Our cars drew alongside each other for a few seconds, and he turned at the sound of my voice.

He saw me.

More importantly, he saw Lucy unconscious in my arms.

The sedan's brake lights came on.

Then Yvette reached across and took hold of his arm.

The brake lights went dark.

Their car accelerated through the intersection and disappeared.

I looked back down at Lucy and put my fingers beneath her nose, desperate to feel even the faintest breath.

She didn't respond.

Her hand lay limp in mine, the hospital bracelet still circling her tiny wrist. As I held on to her, her fingers slowly slipped free of my palm.