Chapter 12: The Accident

The call came at 2:47 PM on a Tuesday that had started like any other. I was in a video conference with our Tokyo branch when Sarah burst into my office, her face pale with panic.

"Mrs. Romano, you need to get to St. Mary's Hospital immediately," she said, her usual composure shattered. "Emma's had an accident."

My world tilted sideways. The people on my screen kept talking, but I couldn't hear them over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. Emma. My baby. My everything.

"What happened?" I asked, already grabbing my purse, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold it.

"The school called. She fell at recess—something about the playground equipment. Lucas is already on his way, but they said..." Sarah's voice broke. "They said it's serious, Mrs. Romano. They need you there immediately."

I ran. For the first time in years, I sprinted through the halls of Romano Enterprises like my entire world was collapsing. Because it was. All my power, my money, all the careful walls I'd built, meant nothing if Emma was hurt.

The drive to the hospital was a blur of traffic and terror. My driver, Miguel, ran red lights while I sat in the back, making desperate bargains with a God I hadn't spoken to since Emma was born. *Please. Just let her be okay. Take the company, the money, my life, whatever you want.*

I found Lucas in the pediatric emergency room, his usually immaculate suit wrinkled and his face ashen with worry. The moment I saw his expression, I knew it was worse than Sarah had indicated.

"Tell me," I demanded, gripping his arms.

"She hit her head when she fell. There's internal bleeding, and they need to operate immediately." His voice was steady, but his hands were trembling. "Bella, she needs blood. A lot of it."

"Then get it! Whatever type she needs, buy the entire hospital's supply if necessary."

Lucas looked devastated. "That's the problem. Emma has a rare blood type—AB negative with a specific antigen profile. They've tested everyone available here, but no one's a match."

My mind went blank. "What are you saying?"

"They need a parent. Her biological father, specifically. The doctor says there's a strong possibility he'd be compatible based on her blood work." Lucas looked at me desperately. "Bella, we have to call him."

Mikel. After all these years of keeping him away from Emma, after trying to protect her from the man who'd chosen his pride over his family, I was going to have to call him and beg him to save our daughter's life.

"How long do we have?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"They can keep her stable for maybe two hours, but after that..." Lucas didn't finish the sentence, but I knew what he meant.

My phone was in my hand before I even realized it. Mikel's number was still there, buried in my contacts under "Do Not Answer." My finger hovered over it for a split second before I pressed call.

He answered on the first ring.

"Bella?" His voice was rough, like he'd been waiting for this call for years. "Is everything alright?"

"Emma's in the hospital," I said, cutting straight to the point. "She needs blood. Your blood. If you're not here within an hour, she could die."

The silence stretched for what felt like forever. Then: "I'm already in my car. Text me the hospital address."

He hung up before I could say anything else.

I stood there in the sterile hospital corridor, surrounded by the smell of disinfectant and the weight of every terrible memory from Emma's birth, and realized that my carefully protected world was about to change forever. Again.

"He's coming?" Lucas asked, already knowing the answer from my expression.

"He's coming." I sank into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs that seemed designed to make waiting even more unbearable. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I hope to God he gets here in time."

Lucas sat beside me, and for the first time in years, we waited together for Mikel Sterling to come through for our family instead of failing us.

The next forty-three minutes were the longest of my life. Longer than being in labor with Emma. Longer than planning our escape from Seattle. Longer than any business crisis I'd ever faced.

Because this wasn't about me. It was about Emma, lying in a hospital bed, depending on the man I'd despised for years to save her life.

At 3:52 PM, just over an hour after my call, Mikel Sterling walked through the doors of St. Mary's Hospital pediatric wing. He looked older, with silver threading through his hair and lines around his eyes that hadn't been there before. But he moved with that same determined stride that had first attracted me to him years ago, and his eyes held the same terror I felt inside.

He spotted me immediately, crossing the distance in long strides. "Where is she?"

"ICU. They're prepping her for surgery, but they need—"

"My blood. I know." He was already rolling up his sleeve. "Where do I need to go?"

"Mr. Sterling?" A doctor in scrubs approached. "I'm Dr. Martinez. We spoke on the phone. We need to get you tested immediately."

Mikel nodded and started to follow the doctor, then stopped and looked back at me. "Bella, she's going to be okay. I promise you, she's going to be okay."

The certainty in his voice, the sense that he could somehow will our daughter back to health through sheer determination, broke something inside me.

I watched him disappear behind the doors and realized that for the first time in years, Mikel Sterling and I wanted exactly the same thing: Emma's safety above everything else.

Twenty minutes later, Dr. Martinez returned with the news that changed everything.

"Mr. Sterling is a perfect match," he said, relief evident in his voice. "We can begin the surgery immediately. But I need to warn you both, it's going to be extensive. Emma has significant internal injuries, and while the transfusion will help, she's going to need intensive care."

"How long?" I asked.

"Several weeks, at minimum." That meant Mikel would be involved in Emma's care every day. It meant coordinating schedules and making medical decisions together. It meant being co-parents for real.

"Whatever she needs," I said, and I meant it. "Money isn't an object. Get the best surgeons, the best equipment, whatever it takes."

"We will," Dr. Martinez said. "But, Mrs. Romano, Emma may require ongoing transfusions during her recovery."

"Which means I need to stay close," Mikel said, walking up with a bandage on his arm. "I'll clear my calendar. Cancel everything. Emma is my priority."

I looked at him—the father of my child, the man I'd once loved, the person who'd caused me so much pain—and saw only a parent who would do anything to save his daughter. Just like me.

"We'll manage it," I said, and for the first time in years, "we" didn't sound bitter. "Whatever Emma needs, we'll figure it out together."

Dr. Martinez nodded and headed back toward the operating room. "I'll update you every hour. The surgery should take four to five hours. Try to get some rest if you can."

Rest. As if either of us could relax while Emma was unconscious on an operating table.

Mikel sat down beside me without asking, and we settled into the kind of silent vigil that only parents understand. Waiting. Hoping. Praying that our child would be alright.

"She's going to ask questions," I said softly, staring at the operating room doors. "When she wakes up, she's going to want to know why you're here, who you are."

"I know." Mikel's voice was rough. "What do you want me to tell her?"

I thought about the line I was about to cross. But looking at those doors, knowing Emma was fighting for her life behind them, my fears about hurt feelings seemed insignificant compared to the possibility of losing her entirely.

"Tell her the truth," I said. "Tell her you're her father, and you've been waiting to meet her for five years."

Mikel turned to me, and I saw tears in his eyes. "Bella, I—"

"Don't," I said. "Don't apologize now. Let's focus on Emma getting better. Everything else can wait."

But everything had already changed. All the walls I'd built around Emma and me had crumbled the moment I dialed Mikel's number. There would be no going back to separate lives.

Whether Emma recovered quickly or needed extended care, whether this brought us together or tore us apart, one thing was certain: Mikel Sterling was here now, and he wasn't going away.

As we sat there in the waiting room, I realized that sometimes the most important decisions aren't ones you make. Sometimes they choose you, in a pediatric ICU waiting room, when all that matters is your child surviving.

Emma was going to meet her father after all. I just hoped I'd be conscious to witness it.