Chapter 3

I took a screenshot and sent it to Vivian.

"This is what you call fair?"

She replied almost immediately. "He bid more."

"He just took $120,000 from Ollie's surgery fund. Now he's using the money you gave him to outbid me. That counts?"

"Once the money's in his account, it's his. You can raise your bid. Don't complain about the rules just because you're losing."

I looked at the $300 left in my account and put my phone away.

Vivian missed the preoperative briefing the next day, exactly as expected.

Dr. Hollis pulled up Ollie's results. "His mother's family history is essential, and both parents need to acknowledge the risks of this procedure."

I sent Vivian every page of the paperwork.

Read. Read. Read.

No reply.

Half an hour later, Blake sent a photo. Vivian was painting the walls of his studio, her white shirt splattered blue.

"Stop pestering her, Miles. Vivian promised to help me finish the walls."

I shut off my phone and signed the documents alone.

She didn't show up once over the next few days.

Then Ollie's kindergarten called. Someone had requested that he be suspended.

When I arrived, several parents were crowded outside the principal's office.

"If his heart condition is that serious, who's responsible if something happens in class?"

One of them thrust a phone toward me.

Blake's gallery account had put up a post: "A real man doesn't use a sick child to control his wife. Time is a limited resource. Respect the rules if you want respect."

The comments had already identified Ollie's kindergarten. There was even a video of me hitting Blake at the hospital.

Every second of context had been cut away. All that remained was my fist, followed by my apology.

Ollie stood pale and trembling behind his teacher, Ms. Harper.

A little boy pointed at him. "Your daddy hits people, and your mommy doesn't want you."

I pulled Ollie into my arms.

"Who shared that video with the parents?"

Ms. Harper hesitated. "His mother. She also filed the suspension request as his guardian. She said Ollie had displayed aggressive behavior when he pushed Mr. Ellison."

I went cold all over.

Vivian hadn't just wrecked our son's surgery for Blake. Now she wanted to drive Ollie out of school for him too.

Ollie clutched my shirt.

"Daddy, I didn't hit anybody."

"I know, buddy. I know."

I carried him away while people whispered behind us.

"No wonder his mom would rather spend time with someone else."

"Poor kid, with a father like that."

Ollie shook against my shoulder.

As we reached the stairs, he suddenly pressed a hand to his chest. His breathing turned frantic, and his lips went blue.

I called an ambulance, then Vivian.

She rejected the first call.

Blake answered the second.

"What do you want now, Miles?"

"Put Vivian on! Ollie's having an attack!"

"Today's my studio's media launch. Could you stop causing drama whenever something important happens to me?"

"Give her the damn phone!"

My voice broke.

At last Vivian spoke. "Where is he?"

"At kindergarten. The ambulance isn't here yet. His emergency medicine is in the medical kit in your car. You're five minutes away. Bring it now!"

"I'll send my driver."

"There's no time. He can barely breathe!"

I heard Blake murmur, "The press is already here."

Vivian was silent for several seconds.

"I'll have Tessa bring it on a bike. Fifteen minutes, tops."

"He doesn't have fifteen minutes!"

"Miles, calm down. You're only making him more upset."

She hung up again.

Ollie went limp in my arms.

I ran downstairs, begging passing drivers to take us to the hospital.

Finally, someone stopped. I'd just laid Ollie in the back seat when a familiar black sedan approached the intersection.

Vivian was inside.

She'd heard me begging for help and still chosen Blake's studio.

I shouted until my throat burned.

"Vivian! Stop the car!"

For a few seconds, our cars traveled side by side.

She turned her head. She saw me. She saw our unconscious son in my arms.

The sedan's brake lights flickered.

Then Blake reached across and caught her arm.

A moment later, the car sped away.

I lowered my head and checked Ollie's breathing.

He didn't respond.

His little hand, still wearing its hospital wristband, slowly slipped out of mine.