Chapter 4
I stared at the photograph until the words blurred.
Four months.
Ryan had been planning a divorce while pretending we were choosing nursery furniture.
I remembered that weekend.
He had spent Saturday morning assembling Noah’s crib.
He complained about the instructions.
I sat on the floor folding baby blankets.
At one point, he kissed the top of my head.
I had thought, He’s finally excited.
Now I knew.
Somewhere around that same time, he had been sitting across from Jessica with divorce papers.
Sarah took the phone from me.
“You need to stop reading.”
“I need to know.”
“You just had major surgery.”
“I need to know everything.”
Another message arrived.
Jessica: He told me you knew the marriage was over.
I replied before my lawyer’s warning could stop me.
Emily: Then why were you reading my medical records?
The typing bubbles appeared instantly.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Then disappeared.
No answer.
I stared at the phone.
“She won’t answer.”
“Good,” Sarah said. “Stop talking to her.”
But twenty minutes later, Jessica sent another message.
Jessica: Ryan said you were unstable and he was worried about the baby.
I felt heat climb my neck.
Emily: So you illegally opened my chart because my husband told you I was unstable?
Jessica: I’m not discussing work issues with you.
Emily: You already made my medical information part of your affair.
No response.
I sent the screenshots to Rebecca.
This time she called.
“Emily, I told you not to engage.”
“I know.”
“You are exhausted, medicated, angry, and dealing with trauma. Ryan and Jessica are not entitled to your immediate reaction.”
“I just wanted her to admit it.”
“She may eventually admit far more if you stop helping her understand what matters.”
That shut me up.
Rebecca continued.
“I filed the divorce petition this afternoon.”
My chest tightened.
“That fast?”
“You said you wanted to proceed.”
“I do.”
“Then we proceed.”
There was something terrifying about hearing the word divorce attached to my marriage.
Even after everything.
Eight years doesn’t disappear because one person deserves better.
Memories do not vanish because they have been poisoned.
For one painful second, I saw Ryan at twenty-six, kneeling beside a lake with a ring.
I saw him crying during our wedding vows.
I saw him carrying me through the front door of our first apartment because the elevator was broken.
Then I saw the cash hitting the kitchen floor.
“Proceed,” I whispered.
Rebecca’s voice softened.
“I also filed a request for temporary financial restraints.”
“What does that mean?”
“If approved, neither of you can move or hide marital assets outside ordinary expenses without consequences.”
“He already moved seventy thousand dollars.”
“And now we document where it went.”
I swallowed.
“What about Noah?”
“For now, Noah is hospitalized. When he is discharged, we will address temporary custody.”
Fear shot through me.
“Can Ryan take him?”
“Not without a court order or your agreement, but you both have parental rights. That’s why we handle this carefully.”
“He abandoned us.”
“I know.”
“What if the judge doesn’t care?”
“Judges care about evidence. We’re collecting evidence.”
After the call, I sat in silence.
Sarah closed the blinds.
“You should sleep.”
“I can’t.”
“Try.”
“What if Ryan tries to take Noah?”
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
She sat on the edge of the chair.
“But you won’t face it alone.”
That broke me.
I cried until my chest hurt.
Sarah had known me since college.
She had stood beside me at my wedding.
She had brought casseroles when my grandmother died.
She had painted one wall of the nursery because my back hurt too much.
And when my husband walked away from me, my neighbor and best friend was the person who followed the ambulance.
“I feel stupid,” I whispered.
“For trusting your husband?”
“For not seeing it.”
“Emily, trust isn’t stupidity.”
“I made excuses for him.”
“That’s what people do when they love someone.”
“I defended him.”
“I know.”
“When my sister said he talked down to me at Thanksgiving, I told her she misunderstood.”
Sarah nodded.
“When he forgot my birthday dinner, I said work was crazy.”
“I remember.”
“When he stopped coming to appointments, I said he was scared.”
“You wanted your marriage to be okay.”
“I wanted Noah to have both parents.”
Sarah looked toward the NICU hallway.
“He will.”
“Not together.”
“Together isn’t always better.”
I knew she was right.
But truth still hurt.
That evening, Ryan’s mother called.
Diane.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered because some foolish part of me expected compassion.
“Emily.”
Her voice was cold.
Not worried.
Not tender.
Cold.
“Hi, Diane.”
“Ryan told me what happened.”
“Which part?”
“He said you threw him out of your hospital room.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did he tell you why?”
“He said you’re upset over a misunderstanding.”
I laughed once.
“Did he tell you I had an emergency C-section?”
“He said the baby is fine.”
The baby.
Again.
“His name is Noah.”
“I know his name.”
“You could have fooled me.”
“Emily, there’s no need to be rude.”
“No need?”
“You’re emotional right now.”
I gripped the blanket.
“Did you know about Jessica?”
Silence.
My heart sank.
“Oh my God.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Ryan is an adult.”
“You knew.”
“I knew he was unhappy.”
“Did you know he was sleeping with her?”
Another pause.
“Emily, marriages are complicated.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“He left me on the kitchen floor while I was in premature labor.”
“I heard you were able to call an ambulance.”
“No. My neighbor called one because I couldn’t stand.”
“He gave you money.”
I felt as if someone had slapped me.
“You think throwing cash at your pregnant wife makes abandoning her acceptable?”
“I think Ryan panicked.”
“He went to Jessica’s apartment.”
“He had already made plans.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
Those were Ryan’s exact words.
I had plans.
Diane knew.
“You knew where he was going.”
“Emily—”
“You knew.”
“Ryan had told me he intended to speak with Jessica that evening.”
“In her bed?”
“That’s vulgar.”
“What’s vulgar is defending your son while your grandson is in intensive care.”
“Don’t use that child against me.”
“That child?”
I looked through the window toward the NICU.
“Your grandson has a name.”
Diane exhaled sharply.
“You’ve always been dramatic.”
Suddenly years of little comments returned.
You’re sensitive.
You take everything personally.
Ryan needs a wife who understands his career.
A man wants peace when he comes home.
Maybe pregnancy isn’t agreeing with you.
I had swallowed all of it.
No more.
“You’re not visiting Noah.”
Silence.
Then Diane laughed.
A small, disbelieving sound.
“You cannot keep me from my grandson.”
“I can while he’s in the hospital.”
“Ryan is his father.”
“And I’m his mother.”
“You are making a serious mistake.”
“Your son already made the serious mistake.”
“You think because you gave birth you control everything?”
“No.”
My voice became calm.
“But I control who enters my hospital room, and right now, that includes my child’s approved visitors.”
Diane’s voice turned hard.
“If you humiliate Ryan, he will fight you.”
“Then he can explain to a judge why he abandoned his wife during a medical emergency.”
“You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
Something about her tone changed.
Not anger.
A warning.
“What does that mean?”
“You think you know my son.”
“I thought I did.”
“You have no idea what he’s capable of when someone corners him.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Sarah, who had heard my side, asked, “What did she say?”
I repeated the last sentence.
Sarah frowned.
“That sounded weird.”
“It sounded like she was threatening me.”
“Or warning you.”
“Why would Diane warn me?”
“I don’t know.”
Neither did I.
At 9:30 p.m., Claire came into my room.
She closed the door behind her.
That alone told me something was wrong.
“What happened?”
“Jessica came to the hospital.”
My whole body tensed.
“Where is she?”
“Administration.”
“Why?”
“She says she wants to cooperate.”
I didn’t believe that for one second.
“About my records?”
“Yes.”
Claire hesitated.
“And she asked to speak with you.”
“No.”
“That’s what I told them.”
“Good.”
“She says she has information you need.”
“About Ryan?”
“Yes.”
I looked toward Sarah.
She shook her head immediately.
“No.”
I agreed.
“Tell her to talk to my lawyer.”
Claire nodded.
Then she added, “There’s one more thing.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“Jessica says she didn’t access your chart for herself.”
A chill moved across my skin.
“Then who?”
Claire’s eyes met mine.
“She says Ryan asked her to do it.”
The room went silent.
I thought about the timing.
Nine chart accesses.
Two months.
My complications.
My insurance.
My identification.
“Why would Ryan need her to look at my medical records?”
Claire swallowed.
“Jessica says he wanted to know exactly when your doctor planned to put you on maternity leave.”
I frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“Did she say why?”
“Yes.”
Claire’s expression became grim.
“She says Ryan was trying to calculate the earliest date he could leave you without looking like he abandoned you during the pregnancy.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
He had turned my pregnancy into a schedule.
A timeline.
A problem to manage.
But something still didn’t fit.
“What about my ID?”
“Jessica claims she never opened that section.”
“What?”
“She says someone else used her login.”
My pulse jumped.
“Who?”
“She doesn’t know.”
I thought of Ryan.
Then something else hit me.
“Can hospital staff see where a login was used?”
Claire nodded slowly.
“Usually.”
“Have they checked?”
“Security is reviewing it now.”
At 10:12 p.m., my lawyer called.
“Emily, I need you to listen carefully.”
I sat straighter.
“What happened?”
“Ryan has filed his own divorce petition.”
“What?”
“He filed after being served notice of ours.”
“Okay.”
“That’s not the concerning part.”
My heart accelerated.
“What is?”
“He is requesting temporary sole custody of Noah once Noah leaves the hospital.”
I could barely speak.
“On what grounds?”
Rebecca paused.
“He is claiming you are mentally unstable.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“He says you suffered a psychiatric crisis during pregnancy, became irrationally jealous, and are now attempting to block him from his child.”
“That’s insane.”
“I know.”
“He cheated on me.”
“Affairs and custody are separate issues.”
“He abandoned me.”
“That matters.”
“He threatened me.”
“That matters too.”
“Why would he think this could work?”
Rebecca was silent for a moment.
Then she said, “Because he attached supporting documentation.”
My stomach dropped.
“What documentation?”
“Copies of what appear to be medical records.”
I stopped breathing.
“What medical records?”
“Records claiming you were treated for severe depression and suicidal thoughts three months ago.”
I shook my head violently.
“That never happened.”
“I assumed not.”
“I have never been hospitalized for that. I never said I was suicidal.”
“I believe you.”
“Then where did he get those records?”
“That is exactly what we need to find out.”
I looked toward Sarah.
My face must have told her everything.
She stood.
“What?”
I could barely force out the words.
“He has fake medical records.”
May you like
And suddenly Jessica accessing my chart wasn’t just about an affair.
Someone had been building a case against me before Noah was even born.
