Chapter 3

The formula arrived soon after. Gabriel followed the instructions, checking the water temperature and measuring everything exactly.

But after two feeds, Joseph started spitting up. Then he cried until his little face was red.

Gabriel paced with him in his arms and spent the afternoon looking things up.

“It takes time to adjust to formula. I asked the doctor. He said to give it three days. Don't worry.”

At one in the morning, Joseph’s forehead felt hot. I checked his temperature. 102.7°F.

I picked him up and rushed to the next room. Gabriel was sitting beside Aaron’s bed, helping him drink some water.

“Gabriel, Joseph’s fever is almost 103. We need to get him to the hospital. Now.”

He stood at once and reached for Joseph, telling the guards outside to get the car ready.

Then Aaron suddenly knocked over the glass beside his bed.

His mouth opened as if he were trying to speak. His body went rigid, and he fell back against the pillow. His arms and legs began to jerk.

Celeste screamed and rushed to him, calling his name.

Gabriel's hand froze in midair. He glanced at me once, then made his choice.

“Get Aaron to the ER. Now!” he told the guards. Then he turned to me. “Nora, take Joseph to the hospital. The maid and the guards will go with you. I'll call a pediatrician and have him meet you there.”

“What about you?”

“Aaron's lips are turning blue. I have to go with him.”

He was already calling the doctor, but he still took a moment to reassure me.

“You're a doctor too. You know what to do. I'll come as soon as I can.”

He sounded so calm. He had an answer for everything.

I stood in the hall with Joseph in my arms and remembered the day I'd fallen. He'd been just as calm when he'd tapped to confirm he'd seen my alert.

There was someone waiting for us at the hospital, just as he'd promised.

But Joseph cried himself hoarse when they drew his blood. I held his tiny hand still while my C-section incision ached.

An older woman with white hair saw me struggling with him and steadied my bag.

“His daddy couldn't come?”

I gave a bitter smile. “He's busy saving someone else's child.”

She paused, then shook her head sadly.

“Honey, you've got your whole life ahead of you. Think about what's best for you and that baby.”

Gabriel didn't arrive until the next morning. He brought breakfast. His shirt was wrinkled and his eyes were bloodshot. He clearly hadn't slept either.

He looked over Joseph's test results and let out a long breath.

“Thank God Joseph's all right.”

Then he looked at me.

“We almost lost Aaron last night. They found a tumor in his brainstem. The doctors say they can't cure it. He doesn't have much time.”

He sat beside the bed and took my hand.

“Nora, at tomorrow's dinner, I want to name Aaron my interim heir.”

For a moment, I couldn't speak. I looked down at Joseph on the hospital bed, then slowly pulled my hand away.

“And if I say no?”

His face hardened.

“My brother died saving me. His only son is dying, and I want to give him and his mother a little comfort. Is that really too much to ask?”

I stared at him. Everything I'd wanted to ask stuck in my throat.

It took me a while to speak.

“So you weren't asking me.”

Gabriel was losing patience.

“It's temporary. When Joseph grows up, he'll take his place. I've explained this, Nora. Don't make me take what little time I have left with Aaron and use it to make you feel better.”

I looked at him for a long time without saying anything.

“All right.”

Only then did his face soften. He pulled my coat around my shoulders.

“I knew you'd understand. Eat something before it gets cold.”

I said nothing.

Back at the estate, I opened the registration form for my new job in Zurich. Gabriel's name was still listed as my emergency contact.

I stared at it for a long time. My father had died years ago. Apart from Gabriel, the only person I could put down was my mother.

I deleted his name and entered hers.

That evening, my lawyer sent a message.

[The divorce papers have been delivered.]

A few minutes later, my phone lit up again.

Gabriel was in the next room, but all he sent was one line.

[I'm not divorcing you.]