My Husband Stayed With His Childhood Love—Our Daughter Called Him Stranger Chapter 04

My Husband Stayed With His Childhood Love—Our Daughter Called Him Stranger Chapter 04

The agent worked fast. The buyer had already paid in full.

I’d booked a one-way flight to a country in the southern hemisphere, leaving in three days.

Passport, visas, ID—everything was already packed.

At six o’clock that morning, I was doing one final check of our documents.

Suddenly, Grace started coughing violently.

I rushed into her bedroom and flipped on the light.

She was curled up on the bed, her tiny face turning a frightening shade of purple.

“Grace!”

Her mouth was open, but she couldn’t seem to pull any air in.

Her asthma hadn’t flared up in two years.

I scooped her into my arms and ran out of the room.

I tore through the cabinet, grabbed her inhaler, and pressed it—once, twice, three times. Nothing happened.

Her lips turned a deeper blue. Her eyes started to roll back.

I dialed 911. “My daughter’s having a severe asthma attack—she’s in respiratory failure and her lips are turning blue!”

“Ma’am, please stay calm.”

“The storm has caused major flooding across the city. Ambulances are extremely backed up right now.”

“We have your location on file, but the estimated wait time…”

“How long?”

“At least forty minutes.”

Forty minutes. We didn’t have forty minutes. I hung up right away.

Nathaniel’s SUV was still parked in the garage.

Clutching Grace against my chest, I ran into the rain.

Her weight pressed against me as her breathing grew weaker and weaker.

I reached the garage and slammed my body against the door. It burst open.

Right at that moment, Nathaniel was getting out of the car. Black trench coat. Umbrella in hand.

He must have just gotten home.

“Nathaniel!”

He looked up and froze for a second when he saw Grace in my arms.

“Grace’s having an asthma attack! Get us to the hospital—now!”

He glanced down at her.

Then, without a word, he took her from my arms, yanked open the back door, and laid her across the seat.

“Get in the car!” he shouted.

I pulled open the passenger door and was about to climb in.

Then his phone rang. That special ringtone.

He glanced at the screen—and answered. No hesitation.

“Nathaniel! Mason fell down the stairs! His head’s bleeding everywhere—he’s unconscious!”

“Please, you have to come save him!”

Claire’s hysterical screams burst from the speaker. I could hear every word, crystal clear.

He hung up. Abruptly. Then he turned toward me.

For one second, our eyes met.

In that single second, I saw the hesitation in his eyes.

Then he bent down, reached into the back seat, and lifted Grace out.

“Nathaniel, what are you doing?!”

“Claire’s in trouble!” He shoved Grace back into my arms.

“Can you, for once, stop faking emergencies to compete for attention?” he roared.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes! Ten minutes at most!”

The red taillights of his SUV carved two glowing streaks through the storm.

Seconds later, and they were swallowed by the downpour.

I stood there in floodwater that reached my knees.

In my arms, my daughter was barely breathing.

Rain hammered against my face.

I couldn’t tell anymore what was rain and what was tears.

Grace’s fingers twitched. Then, so faintly, she clutched the collar of my shirt. “Mommy…”

“I’m here, sweetheart…”

Her eyelids slowly closed. And didn’t open again.

I turned around and started walking toward Silver Ridge General Hospital, miles away. Step by step. Into the raging storm.

The water rose past my calves. At some point, the umbrella was just… gone.

By the time I made it to the hospital entrance, my knees just gave way. I collapsed onto the cold tile floor of the ER.

“Help… please, somebody help…”

“My daughter—severe asthma attack—”

“Please, just save her…”

A nurse on duty rushed over and took Grace from my arms.

I watched them wheel her through the double doors. The red light flicked on above them.

I stayed there. Soaked to the bone.

My knees scraped raw and bleeding, the cuts on my feet still oozing.

I don’t know how long it was before a doctor finally came out. He had a form in his hand.

“Family member?”

“I am.”

“She hasn’t been getting enough oxygen. We need to place a breathing tube right away.”

He handed me the form.

“This is the emergency treatment authorization form. We need your signature here.”

My hand was shaking so hard I could barely hold the pen.

After signing, I leaned against the wall and pulled out my phone.

A little water had gotten inside, but the screen still worked.

I opened my chat with David. Then I sent him a scanned copy of the signed divorce papers.

After that, I opened my email.

I attached the electronic copy of the property sale deed.

Then I added one more attachment and sent everything to Nathaniel’s work email.

The file name was just one line.

[Nathaniel, you’ve lost us forever.]

The moment I hit Send, the red light above the ER doors went dark.