Chapter 4

When Blake returned home, the night light in the nursery was still on.

Warm light fell on the brand-new baby bed, covered with sheets I had washed and dried.

The hospital bag lay open on the sofa, with little clothes and diapers neatly packed inside.

On the shoe cabinet, my prenatal checkup book still sat.

On the dining table was a sticky note I'd made in advance listing postpartum meal plans.

Blake changed his shoes and looked at the empty living room, his brow furrowing deeper.

He probably expected me to be sitting on the sofa waiting for him, eyes red, questioning why he saved Isaacson first.

But the house was so quiet, only the ticking of the wall clock remained.

He walked to the dining table and picked up the sticky note.

On the back of the note was a birth risk plan I'd written.

"If I hemorrhage, please prioritize saving the child."

"If I unfortunately don't make it off the operating table, please tell Blake not to let Isaacson near my child."

Blake sneered and crumpled the note into a ball, tossing it in the trash.

"Playing these scare tactics again."

He took out his phone and dialed my number once more.

The receiver only had the cold mechanical female voice prompting that the phone was off.

He opened WhatsApp and forcefully tapped the screen.

"You should come back now. The due date is in these few days. Don't gamble with your body out of spite."

"I've already handled Isaacson's matter. She's just a patient. You don't need to keep arguing with her."

"After you give birth, you can take maternity leave at home. You can keep Isaacson company and provide psychological counseling."

The message was sent, but still no reply.

Blake threw his phone on the sofa and rubbed his temples.

Just then, the phone rang.

The caller ID showed my medical school mentor, Professor Angel, who had always treated me like a daughter.

Blake answered the phone, his tone resuming polite distance.

"Professor Angel, you're looking for me."

"Blake, where are you right now?"

Professor Angel's voice trembled, suppressing anger.

Blake glanced at the sticky note in the trash, naturally assuming I had gone to complain.

"I'm at home. If she sent you to be a mediator, there's no need."

"If she wants me to back down, she should come home herself. She's about to be a mother, yet she's still this immature."

Heavy breathing came from the other end of the phone.

"Immature? Blake, do you even know what happened last night!"

"Of course I know."

Blake's tone cooled.

"Isaacson had a depressive episode and accidentally scratched her. I already had Isaacson apologize. What more does she want?"

"If she feels wronged, after the child is born, I'll buy her that jewelry she's had her eye on for a long time to compensate."

"Don't you have a heart!"

Professor Angel shouted into the phone.

"Usually favoring that woman is one thing, but last night was her due date! You..."

Before Professor Angel could finish, Blake's other phone rang. It was a video call from Isaacson.

Blake didn't even look and directly hung up on Professor Angel.

He answered the video. On the screen, Isaacson was crying, her face covered in tears.

"Blake, come quickly! I dreamed of her!"

"She was holding a knife coming for me, saying she'd kill me! I'm so scared!"

Blake stood up and grabbed his car keys without hesitation.

"Don't be afraid, I'll come right away."

As he walked through the living room, his gaze fell on a delicately packaged velvet box.

It was a baby baptismal cross necklace he'd bought last week, planning to put it on the child during their future baptism.

It had the nickname he'd casually chosen engraved on it: Oliver.

It seemed he had originally planned to use this to placate me after I gave birth.

He stuffed the box in his pocket and closed the door.

When Blake rushed to the ward, Isaacson was curled in the corner of the bed, pointing at the window and screaming:

"She's here! She's holding the baby coming for me!"