Chapter 1 Liver Cancer

As soon as Clara Brooks' plane landed and she powered on her phone, it rang.

"Clara, once your trip wraps up, go straight to Druyta and see my mother. She's the best liver cancer specialist I know." Alan Robertson, the same friend who always kept an eye on her in college, spoke with urgency on the phone. "You can't keep delaying this. If you stall any longer, you're not going to make it through the year!"

Clara stood beside the luggage carousel, fatigue in her posture. She pressed the phone closer, eyes distant and unfocused. "Alan, just drop it. I don't want to start this whole thing." Her voice came out quiet. "Work's waiting for me here. I can't just up and leave everything behind."

Alan's patience broke. "What on earth is more important than your health? You have a month. If you're not in Druyta by then, I'll come get you myself. Don't test me."

Clara said nothing. She watched the baggage carousel, bags going round and round.

The truth was, her job was not the reason she stayed. It was the man who'd given her the job-the one who meant more to her than anything else.

He was the anchor in her life. The person who'd pulled her out of despair. The man she loved in silence-her oldest friend, Declan Curtis.

Alan's voice was still there, rising in volume, but then another call flashed on her screen.

"I hear you, Alan. I'll take care of myself, alright? Someone else is calling-I need to go." She ended the call before Alan could respond.

Clara glanced at the phone, and her heart thudded.

Declan's name lit up the display.

She took a breath and answered, voice steady. "Mr. Curtis?"

But it wasn't Declan who answered.

"Hello, is this Clara Brooks?" asked a woman in a sweet tone.

Clara's brow furrowed. "Yes, who is this?"

"This is Lorraine Mitchell. I'm Declan's girlfriend."

Declan's girlfriend. Once, Clara used to imagine she'd be the one to hold that title.

She froze for a moment, then pushed everything down and forced herself into a professional tone. "Hello. You're calling from Mr. Curtis' number. Is everything okay?"

Lorraine practically sparkled as she spoke. "We're at Central General Hospital. Paparazzi are everywhere at the front entrance," she said, her voice upbeat despite the chaos. "Declan doesn't want any photos of me floating around, so he wants you to come take care of it."

Clara knew exactly who Lorraine was. Lorraine was a household name, an actress who usually dodged cameras at all costs. Even so, there was an odd thrill in Lorraine's tone, like she almost enjoyed the attention.

Without missing a beat, Clara kept her reply brief. "Alright. I'll be there soon."

She slid into the back of a cab, phone in hand. As the cab sped toward Central General Hospital, she set up an emergency video call with the PR team, rattling off instructions and pulling together a fast response plan.

By the time the cab rolled to a stop at the hospital, the damage-control strategy was already in motion.

Clara tried Declan's number, hoping he'd answer this time. Lorraine picked up instead. "Where should I meet you?" Clara asked.

"OB/GYN," Lorraine said.

Clara nearly stumbled right there on the hospital steps.

"Wait, OB/GYN?" she repeated, her disbelief clear.

The next voice was sharp and distant. Declan had taken the phone. "You're late, Miss Brooks. Did you want the whole city to see these photos before you showed up?"

His words stung like a slap.

OB/GYN.

That could only mean one thing. Lorraine was having Declan's baby.

Clara stood frozen, gripping the cold railing beside the hospital gate. The ache in her chest made it hard to breathe, and for a moment, her vision swam.

Everything she'd held together for so long, her composure, her careful distance, her hope that maybe she still belonged in Declan's world, crumbled all at once.

He was moving forward. A family, a child, a picture-perfect future.

Meanwhile, she was still clinging to the past, standing just outside, looking in.

Declan called her name, impatience in his tone.

She wanted nothing more than to turn around and disappear, to pretend none of this was happening.

But Declan had asked for her help.

And when it came to him, Clara had never been able to walk away.