Chapter 3
Harper stared at the divorce paperwork like it might bite her.[]
She’d known Amelia for fifteen years, watched her completely lose herself over Nathan Harrison. The girl had literally restructured her entire life around that man–changed colleges, switched majors, turned down jobs in other cities. Harper had watched her best friend shrink into someone she barely recognized.]
When they got married last year, Harper thought maybe it would finally be enough. Maybe Nathan would actually see what he had.[]
Apparently not.
“I’m done with him.” Amelia’s voice was steady, matter–of–fact.[]
She smiled then–not the sad, hopeful smile Harper had gotten used to, but something real. For just a second, Harper saw a flash of the old Amelia. The girl who used to own every room she walked into, back when her dad was alive and the Visconti name still meant something in this city.
“Good,” Harper said simply. “About damn time.“]
“Nathan doesn’t know about the baby.” Amelia’s fingers traced the edge of the exam table. “There’s a thirty–day waiting period for the divorce. I can’t risk him finding out and trying to use it against me.’
:“1
Harper nodded. Made perfect sense. During the cooling–off period, either spouse could withdraw the petition. If Nathan knew about the pregnancy, he’d probably try to guilt her into staying.
“Okay, so here’s the thing,” Harper said, pulling up Amelia’s file. “We can’t do the procedure right away. You’re type AB–negative, which means we need to special–order blood just in case. It’ll take about a week.“[]
Amelia’s face went tight. AB–negative–her father’s blood type. One more reminder of everything she’d lost.[]
“And Mia?” Harper’s voice went gentle. “You’re showing signs of threatened miscarriage. You need to be really careful the next few days. No stress, lots of rest.”
“What does that mean exactly?“]
“Cramping, some spotting. Your body’s… well, it’s under a lot of stress right now. Just take it easy, okay?“]
Harper squeezed her friend’s shoulder. “I’m off in like an hour. Want me to drive you home?“[]
“Yeah, that’d be great.“]
Amelia headed to the waiting room, one hand instinctively pressed to her stomach. Was her body already making the decision for her?
Her phone buzzed. Bank alert–deposit from the new account she’d opened that morning. A text followed immediately.
Hey! Royalty check just went through. You should see it in your account now.
7
Before Nathan, Amelia had been a songwriter. Not the kind who performed–the kind who stayed in the background and crafted hits for other people. Her father had encouraged her music when she was young, back when money wasn’t an issue. After he died and everything went to hell, those piano lessons became her survival.[]
Got it, thanks.
You know, you’ve written some of our biggest songs. Ever think about stepping into the spotlight? There’s this new singing competition–all original material. I could get you an audition.
Amelia scrolled through the email her manager had sent. A reality show, basically, but focused on songwriting and original music instead of covers.[]
Maybe. Let me think about it.]
She set her phone down as a sharp cramp hit her lower abdomen.[]
Chapter 3
God, she missed her dad. If he could see her now…]
Meanwhile, social media was having a field day:[]
#VivianHope Cancer trending #1]
#Floral Designer Dying trending #3]]
#TerminalDiagnosis trending #8]
The top video had already hit two million views:[]
Celebrity floral designer Vivian Hope, known for her work with Manhattan’s elite, revealed today that she has terminal stomach cancer and only six months to live. Instead of stepping away from public life, Hope plans to document her final months online.[]
In the video, Vivian looked ethereal–pale but beautiful, like some tragic heroine. “I want to share this journey with everyone who might be going through something similar. To show that even when you’re dying, you can still choose hope.”
The reporter’s voice continued over B–roll footage: “Hope has been romantically linked to Harrison Industries CEO Nathan Harrison, though Harrison recently recently married. Sources close to the situation say this could be a real–life tragedy worthy of Hollywood.“[]
Vivian stepped back into frame, interrupting with practiced grace. “I’m not going to lie about my feelings. Nathan is… he’s an incredible man. But he’s married, and I respect that completely. I would never try to come between them.“[]
She walked away from the cameras, leaving the reporter to wrap up the segment.[]
The moment she was out of sight, Vivian slipped into a waiting Town Car. A woman in scrubs handed her a water bottle, looking nervous as hell.]
“Spit it out,” Vivian said without looking up from her phone.[]
The woman glanced at the driver, then leaned closer. “Miss Hope, your actual diagnosis is just gastritis. Having us falsify medical records is already illegal, but now you’re going public with it? What happens when people start digging?“]
Vivian’s smile was ice–cold. “Is your clinic a licensed medical facility?“]
“Yes, but-“]]
“Are my records stored independently?”]
“Yes.”
“And what do those records say?”
The woman swallowed hard. “Terminal stomach cancer. Six–month prognosis.“[]
7
“Exactly. So if anyone investigates, that’s what they’ll find.” Vivian’s voice turned dangerous. “And if complications arise later, we have options. Either I make a miraculous recovery thanks to some experimental treatment, or your clinic made a massive diagnostic error that put me through months of unnecessary trauma. Which scenario sounds better for your malpractice insurance?“]
The fake nurse went white. “I understand, Miss Hope. I’m sorry for questioning you.”
“Good. Now, we’re going to New York Presbyterian.“[]
“Is that… safe?”
“I need to pick up some legitimate pain medication. Doctor’s orders.” Vivian fired off a quick text to Nathan: At the hospital picking up meds. Can you meet me?
His response was instant: Already on my way.[]
Two floors up, Amelia sat in a bathroom stall, staring at the bright red blood on the tissue paper. Her hand pressed against her cramping stomach.]
It was starting.
