Chapter 4

Arthur Hayes Sr. called me later that day.

His voice was strained, tired.

"Sarah, are you alright? Ethan... he said he was going to see you."

"I'm fine, Mr. Hayes." I cradled my throbbing arm.

"He was here. He left."

There was a pause. "He doesn't understand, does he?"

"No," I said. "He doesn't understand anything."

"I tried to tell him, Sarah. About Lily. About the baby."

"He wouldn't listen. He thinks it's a ploy. That you're hiding the child."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Of course, he does."

"I'm coming to New York, Mr. Hayes. There are papers to sign."

The divorce papers. My final release.

"Yes," he said heavily. "They are ready."

When I arrived at the Hayes mansion a few days later, my arm in a sling, Arthur looked older, grayer.

Ethan was there, pacing in the grand library, a storm brewing in his eyes.

"Finally!" he snapped when he saw me. "Done playing games?"

"Where's the baby, Sarah? Hiding it with your hick relatives?"

Arthur stepped in front of me.

"Ethan, enough." His voice was steel.

"I told you. There is no baby to hide."

"Lily Miller passed away the day of Sarah's accident."

"And the child Sarah was carrying... your child, Ethan... died as a result of that accident and your subsequent neglect."

Ethan stared, his face contorted with disbelief.

"Lies! You're all lying to me!"

"She's trying to manipulate me, Grandfather! Can't you see?"

Arthur' s face was grim. "Sarah was at her sister's funeral in Vermont the day you went there."

"The day you assaulted her. Again."

Ethan' s eyes darted to my sling, then back to Arthur, then to me.

"Funeral? Assaulted? What are you talking about? I just... I tried to get her to come home!"

He was genuinely bewildered, lost in his own narrative.

Arthur sighed, a sound of profound defeat.

He picked up a folder from his desk and handed it to Ethan.

"These are the divorce papers, Ethan. Signed by Sarah."

"It's over."

Ethan snatched the papers, his eyes scanning them wildly.

"No! This isn't happening!" He looked at me. "You can't do this!"

Suddenly, a woman' s voice, calm and professional, cut through the tension.

"Mr. Hayes? Ethan?"

Dr. Ramirez, the attending physician from the hospital, stood in the doorway.

Arthur must have called her.

"Dr. Ramirez," Arthur said, his voice weary. "Please, tell my grandson what you told me."

Dr. Ramirez looked at Ethan, her expression compassionate but firm.

"Mr. Hayes, I was Sarah's doctor. I treated her after the accident."

"She suffered significant trauma. The loss of her baby was a direct result."

"I also personally informed you of the gravity of her condition when you eventually arrived at the hospital, hours later, smelling of alcohol and another woman's perfume."

Ethan flinched as if struck.

"And I was there when the news about her sister, Lily, was delivered."

"Sarah's grief was... immense. Her losses are real, Mr. Hayes."

"Lily Miller is dead. Your child is dead."

Each word was a nail in the coffin of Ethan' s denial.