Part 2
They left before sunset, dragging my suitcase down the hall because Vivian said hers was “too small for paradise.” Mark kissed Ethan’s forehead without really looking at him.
“Text me if you feel better,” he said.
I looked at him. “Is your phone going to be on?”
Vivian laughed from the doorway. “Not during the ceremony. Try not to mess this up.”
The door closed.
The house fell silent, except for Ethan’s gasps.
My smartwatch vibrated. A voice came through the speaker.
“Claire? I got your alert. What’s wrong?”
“Lena,” I sobbed. “He’s blue.”
Her tone changed instantly. “Call 911 now. Turn him face up. I’m sending the nearest unit.”
“My phone’s dead.” They took my charger.
“Use the landline in the kitchen.”
Vivian had ripped the cord out of the wall.
Of course she had.
I ran barefoot to the neighbor’s house with Ethan pressed tightly against my chest, my heart pounding in my ears. Mrs. Alvarez opened the door and screamed when she saw his face.
The ambulance arrived in six minutes.
Six minutes can feel like an eternity.
At the hospital, everything became a blur of white lights, running shoes, short commands, a tiny mask, my baby disappearing behind double doors. A nurse tried to make me sit down. I refused until my knees buckled.
Lena arrived in scrubs, her hair loose, her face pale.
She wasn’t lying.
“Claire,” she said gently, “this is serious.”
I signed every form. I answered every question. I handed over the backup recordings from my phone, the one Vivian didn’t know existed. I gave the police the bank statements with flight upgrades, from
