Chapter 81

MADDISON

I recall stumbling into Black’s stall, trying to dodge Asher’s mom. After that, it’s all a blur of voices, glaring lights, and excruciating pain. Was the pain off the charts?

I guess so. I come to my senses with the incessant beeping of machines and the sterile scent of a hospital room. I figure I must be in a hospital, and I despise the fact that I’m here.

My dad always discouraged me from seeking medical help; it wasn’t something he or the others were fond of. I’m pretty sure Mr. Fennick and Jonathon wouldn’t be thrilled about me being here either.

I attempt to sit up, trying to remove the mask that’s pumping air into my mouth and nose. But a hand stops me—an older woman’s hand.

“Let’s leave this on a bit longer, honey. Your oxygen levels are a bit low,” she says.

As she speaks, the bed adjusts, propping me up so I can survey the room. I don’t bother trying to talk, now that I can see the room in all its sterile glory.

It’s a private room—just her, me, and the dreaded machines. I guess I must be sick. Maybe Asher’s mom was right when she said I had a fever.

I’m not usually one to fall ill; I’ve never been sick before.

“Ah, good morning, Mrs. Henderson. It’s nice to see you awake. I’m Doctor Estelle.” A petite woman, presumably the doctor, greets me.

If I weren’t in so much pain, I might’ve laughed at the name she used. Did Asher pretend we were married?

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

I shrug, mulling over her question. In pain, achy, swollen… My head is throbbing, eyes pounding.

“We have a few things to discuss,” she says, pulling up a chair next to me.

I stay silent, waiting for her to continue, which she does without hesitation.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but you came in with a fever and fainting. We ran tests and found a pregnancy outside of your uterus. We had to immediately remove the fetus and your right fallopian tube, which had ruptured and was bleeding internally. We’ve stopped the bleeding and drained the fluid and hope you’ll recover quickly. This does mean your future fertility might be affected, and you may find it harder to conceive.”

She smiles gently, a flicker of sadness crossing her face before she hides it.

“Do you have any questions?” she asks.

I shake my head, whispering “No,” even though she can’t hear me over the mask.

“All right, I’ll have Agnes here give you some painkillers and let you rest. I’ll also tell your husband he can come back now.”

I swallow hard at her use of the word ~husband~ but keep my thoughts to myself as Agnes injects some white liquid into my IV.

I ponder the doctor’s explanation for my situation, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I was pregnant… They took care of it for me.

Thank fucking God. The thought of having a child inside me, a child conceived out of pure selfishness and vile men, makes me sick.

I’m on the pill, and they’re supposed to use condoms, but I guess one must’ve broken, and my medication must’ve failed.

A shiver runs down my spine. I’ve dodged a bullet…

As the painkillers kick in, I silently thank a God I don’t believe in for taking away the baby I didn’t want. “Dodge a bullet” comes to mind…

***

I wake up to a warm hand enveloping mine. The feeling is completely alien and not particularly welcome.

My eyes open, feeling dry, my eyelids scraping against my eyes as I blink rapidly. Asher is sitting by my bedside, playing the part of the doting husband he’s pretending to be.

And I shouldn’t feel it, but anger cuts through me, filling the room, the bed…the air.

Who does he think he is, pretending he’s anything more than just another man who paid for my services like all the other fucking men who’ve taken advantage of me?

I yank my hand away from his, the machine beeping frantically as my anger escalates. And it’s all directed at him, even though he’s not the root cause of any of this.

I want to be grateful for the opportunities he’s given me, but my anger blinds me to his true character.

“He tells me the doctors filled you in on why you’re here,” he says, leaning back in his chair, his gaze fixed on me.

“Yeah… They mentioned something about that,” I reply.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice choked. “I’m sorry I was the one who had to make the decision about your baby and your tube,” he confesses.

“That wasn’t my baby,” I snap back at him. “If I’d known it was there, I would have gotten rid of it…”

His eyes are cautious, as if he’s bracing for a blow. Is he expecting me to resent him for making the same choice I would have made—had I been conscious enough to decide for myself?

Truthfully, that’s about the only decision he’s made on my behalf that I can genuinely appreciate. But that doesn’t mean I’m not furious about his other choices.

I’m not pleased that he took it upon himself to give me his name. And pretending to be someone he’s not—to me—is unforgivable.

“You’re mad at me,” he observes.

“Shouldn’t I be?” I challenge him.

“It was either your life or neither of you… I chose for you to live, Maddison.”

“I’m not mad that you chose to end the baby’s life, Asher. I’m mad that you pretended to be my husband. That you gave me your name when it’s not mine!”

He frowns, but only for a moment. Then he seems to sink into the chair, a smile spreading across his face.

Laughter bubbles up from his chest.

“So you wouldn’t want to marry me and take my name?” he teases, that smirk never leaving his lips. “My mother had to give a name; she doesn’t know yours, and we didn’t want to use your real name. Plus, as your husband, I can make decisions for you… The alternative would have been contacting your next of kin.”

I swallow hard; my next of kin would be my papa. My anger fades; the horrifying thought of Papa being called here sends a shiver down my spine.

“Okay, maybe I’m not as mad as I was a few moments ago,” I admit. “Maybe his decision to give me his name was a favor I didn’t realize I needed.”