Chapter 3

The procedure was clinical, quick.

I felt empty, hollowed out. But also, strangely, lighter.

A few days later, my phone rang. It was Ethan, or rather, "Marcus."

His voice was urgent, strained.

"Sarah, it' s Olivia. She collapsed. It' s bad. They need blood at the hospital. RH-negative. You' re RH-negative, aren' t you?"

How did he know? Marcus wouldn' t know my blood type.

I felt a flicker of defiance.

"How would Marcus know my blood type, Ethan?" I asked, my voice deliberately flat.

A pause.

"One of your colleagues at the ER mentioned it once. When Marcus was... you know... visiting the hospital for a donation drive or something. It stuck in my mind. Please, Sarah. It' s an emergency."

His story was flimsy, but his desperation felt real, for Olivia.

I was still weak, still recovering.

But Olivia was dying.

"Fine," I said. "I' ll come."

This was it. The final act. The last piece of the debt.

I went to the hospital. Donated my blood.

Ethan, as "Marcus," hovered, all concerned brother-in-law, doting partner to Olivia.

He barely looked at me once the bag was full.

Chloe found me in the recovery area, pale and shaking.

"Sarah, what are you doing? You look like a ghost."

I told her. Everything. The lies, the baby, the decision.

Her face hardened. "That bastard. You need to get out, Sarah. Far away from him, from all of them."

"I know," I whispered. "I' m working on it."

That night, I found the old email address.

Dr. Ben Carter. My college boyfriend. The one before Ethan.

He was with Doctors Without Borders now.

My fingers trembled as I typed.

"Ben, it' s Sarah Miller. I need help."