Chapter 4

I drove.

I don't remember the drive itself, only a blur of highway lights and the frantic rhythm of the windshield wipers. I broke every speed limit, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. The two-hour drive felt like an eternity.

When I burst into the emergency room, I was disheveled and out of breath. A nurse at the front desk looked up, annoyed.

"Can I help you?"

"My daughter. Lily Davies. I got a call."

Another nurse overheard and rushed over. "Mr. Miller? You took your time. The doctor needed to speak with you before the surgery."

"I came as fast as I could," I said, my chest tight with anxiety. "How is she? What happened?"

"She has a severe compound fracture in her right leg," the nurse said, her tone softening slightly. "The surgery is to set the bone and repair the damage. It's a serious injury. She's going to have a long recovery."

My legs felt weak. A compound fracture. I knew what that meant. Bone breaking through the skin. The image made me sick.

I sank into a hard plastic chair in the waiting room, my head in my hands. How did this happen? Where was Olivia?

Hours passed. Finally, a doctor in scrubs came out.

"Family of Lily Davies?"

I shot to my feet. "I'm her father. Is she okay?"

"The surgery was successful," he said. "We've stabilized the fracture. She's in recovery now. It was a nasty break, but she's a strong kid. She'll be in a cast for a while, and she'll need extensive physical therapy."

Relief washed over me so intensely I felt dizzy. "Can I see her?"

"They're taking her to her room now. 304."

I found her room just as they were wheeling her in. She was pale and small in the big hospital bed, her right leg encased in a massive cast, elevated on a pillow. An IV was taped to her small hand.

Seeing her like that, so fragile and broken, broke something inside me. All the anger, all the resentment, it all melted away, replaced by a raw, overwhelming wave of paternal love. This was my child. My daughter. And she was hurt.

I sat by her bed, holding her small, cool hand. I imagined her, small and scared, stepping into the street. Why was she alone? Where the hell was her mother?

I pulled out my phone and called Olivia. I had to unblock her number first.

She answered on the third ring, her voice sounding distant and distracted, music thumping in the background. "Ethan? I told you not to call me."

"Lily's in the hospital," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "She was hit by a car."

The music stopped abruptly. "What? Is she okay?"

"She has a broken leg. A bad one. She just got out of surgery. Where are you, Olivia?"

"I... I had a charity gala. It's a very important fundraiser," she stammered. "I just stepped out for a minute. The nanny was with her."

"A nanny couldn't stop her from running into the street? Where the hell were you?" I repeated, my voice rising.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," she said, and hung up.

"As soon as she can." I stared at my phone in disbelief. Her daughter was in the hospital, and a party was more important.

I stayed by Lily's side. Hours ticked by. One hour. Two. Three. Olivia didn't show.

Around dusk, Lily started to stir. Her eyelids fluttered open. Her eyes, the same cool grey as her mother's, found mine. They were filled with pain and confusion.

"My leg hurts," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

"I know, sweetie. The doctor gave you medicine. It'll start to work soon."

She tried to sit up and winced, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm thirsty."

I carefully poured her a small cup of water and helped her drink through a straw. She drank it all, her little hand clinging to mine.

She lay back down, her gaze fixed on my face. A tear rolled down her temple and into her hair.

"Dad?"

The word hit me like a physical blow. It was the first time in her seven years of life that she had ever called me that. Not "Ethan." Dad.

"I'm here, Lily," I whispered, my own voice thick with emotion.

"Don't leave," she pleaded, her grip tightening on my hand. "Please."

"I won't. I'm right here."

Just then, the door to the room swung open. Olivia swept in, smelling of expensive perfume and hairspray. She was still in her evening gown, a silk, emerald green number. She looked flawless, and completely out of place.

"Oh, my poor baby!" she exclaimed, rushing to the bed. "Mommy's here."

She tried to give Lily a bag of candy. "Look what I brought you, sweetie. Your favorite gummies."

I stood up and intercepted the bag. "She can't have this. She just got out of surgery. The doctor said clear liquids only."

Olivia glared at me. "I'm her mother. I know what's best for her."

"Apparently not," I shot back. "Or she wouldn't be in here in the first place."

Lily started to cry, a frightened, pained sound. "I want my dad," she sobbed, turning her face away from Olivia. "I don't want you. I want Dad."

The look on Olivia's face was a mixture of shock and fury. She was not used to being rejected, especially by her own daughter.

She turned her glare on me. A calculating look entered her eyes. She saw an opportunity.

"See, Ethan?" she said, her voice suddenly soft and persuasive. "She needs you. She needs her father. Maybe... maybe this was a wake-up call for all of us. You should come home."

I looked at Olivia, in her perfect dress with her perfect hair. I looked at Lily, crying in the bed, calling my name. And I saw the trap.

This was not a breakthrough. It was a transaction. Lily was in pain, so she called for the person who always took care of her pain. Olivia saw that dependence and immediately tried to use it to her advantage. Nothing had changed.

A cold clarity settled over me.

I gently pulled my hand from Lily's grasp. She looked at me, her eyes wide with panic.

"I can't stay, Lily," I said, my voice steady and firm. "I gave up my parental rights, remember? You're a Davies. Your mother is here to take care of you."

Her face crumpled. "But... you're my dad."

"No," I said, the word hanging in the sterile air. "I'm not. You should call me Mr. Miller. Your mother will explain."

I looked at Olivia. "She's your responsibility now. All yours."

I turned and walked toward the door.

Lily' s cry turned into a full-blown scream. A raw, piercing sound of abandonment and terror. "Dad! Don't go! DADDY!"

The sound followed me down the hallway. Nurses turned to stare.

Olivia ran after me, grabbing my arm. "Ethan, you can't be serious! Look at her! She needs you!"

"She needs a parent," I said, pulling my arm away. "She has one. You. Good luck with that."

I kept walking. The screams echoed behind me, growing fainter with every step. I didn't look back. I got in my car, and I drove away, the sound of my daughter screaming my name burned into my memory.