I literally begged my husband on my knees to take me to the ER because I was in labor, but he snapped that I was just being dramatic and walked out to celebrate his mother's birthday.

David’s eyes went wide. He struggled against the operators, but they held him like a vise.

"Sarah doesn't have a brother!" David spat. "She's estranged from her family! They're nobodies!"

The back door of one of the black sedans opened.

I stepped out.

I was in a wheelchair, pushed by my father, General Hayes. I looked pale, exhausted, and broken, but my eyes were locked onto David with a hatred so pure it could have burned down the neighborhood.

"Sarah!" David yelled, relief washing over his face. "Sarah, tell these psychopaths to let me go! What is wrong with you? Why are you in a wheelchair?"

My father wheeled me right up to the hood of the car. He looked down at David like he was looking at a cockroach.

"She is in a wheelchair," my father said, his voice booming with authority, "because her uterus ruptured while you were drinking champagne. She flatlined, you pathetic excuse for a man. She died on an operating table because you walked away."

David’s face drained of all color. The arrogance vanished, replaced by a sickening realization. "Sarah... I didn't know. I swear to God, I thought you were just..."

"Being dramatic?" I finished for him, my voice eerily calm. "I begged you, David. I was bleeding on the floor, and you told me to wait a few hours."

"I'm sorry," David began to hyperventilate. "I'm so sorry, Sarah, I love you, please—"

"Save it," I interrupted. I took the white envelope from Marcus and tossed it onto the hood of the car in front of David’s face. "Those are divorce papers. I am taking sole custody of Arthur. You will never see him. You will never come near me again."

"You can't do that!" David screamed, panic setting in. "I have money! I have lawyers! I'll destroy you in court!"