He Named Our Son After His First Love,Then Lost Us Both

The lawyer told me to secure my documents first and keep all records relating to the marriage and the baby's care. Back home, I handed the baby to the nanny and went into the study alone. The safe held my documents, my mother's things, and the baby's birth certificate. I entered my birthday. Wrong password. Adrian used to use my birthday for every password. He said it was the one date he could never forget. I stood there for a moment, then tried Rosalind Vaughn's birthday. The safe opened. A pink journal sat at the front of the safe, impossible to miss. The cover read "Rosalind's Road to Her Dreams." I opened it. Inside were project payment receipts and business plans she had written. The payments totaled five million dollars. The last page was in Adrian's handwriting. It's okay if you fail. I'll always be there to back your dreams. Six months ago, I'd wanted to take a training course to prepare for going back to work. The tuition was one thousand dollars. Adrian glanced over the registration form and asked if I had nothing better to do. "You can't even keep up with the baby, and you want to go back to work?" The next day, he canceled the authorized-user card on his account. In the end, I paid the tuition with money I'd saved from organizing data for a research group. He wouldn't spend one thousand dollars on my career, but he was willing to spend five million to let Rosalind learn by trial and error. I took photos of the payment receipts, sent them to the lawyer, and kept looking for my own things. My mother's donation papers were right under the document envelope. She had signed a donor consent form before she died. Adrian had helped handle the arrangements after her death. Whenever I asked to see the paperwork, he said he'd put it away so it wouldn't remind me of her and upset me. Now, going through it, I found one of Rosalind's postoperative follow-up reports tucked among the papers. I called him, the report in my hand. "Why is Rosalind's follow-up report in with my mom's papers?" The line was quiet for a few seconds. "You went through the safe?" "I was looking for my mom's things." He paused, sounding impatient. "Rosalind received Mom's donated corneas. After the surgery, both sides agreed to contact through the eye bank. I handled the correspondence for the family. That's how I found out." My grip tightened. "So you've known all this time, and you wouldn't tell me?" "They were already donated. What difference does it make who got them? If I told you, you'd just start overthinking again." I looked at the date on the follow-up report and remembered a day not long after my mother died. That day, I'd asked him to help me go through her things. He said he had an important client and couldn't get away. That night, Rosalind posted a photo. There were flowers by her hospital bed, and someone was peeling an orange for her. On the wrist visible in the photograph was the watch I'd given Adrian. "The day I asked you to come home and stay with me—you were with her, weren't you?" "She'd just had surgery. She had no one with her." "I'd just lost my mother." He didn't answer. After a while, all he said was, "I'm really busy right now. Whatever it is, we'll talk when I get home." The call ended. I put down my phone and packed my mother's papers away again. She had wanted to help others, and I wasn't going to go against her wishes. But Adrian had kept it from me while staying by Rosalind's side, and he wouldn't even give me an honest answer. I didn't call him back. Instead, I left a message for the donation coordinator at the number on the paperwork, asking her to verify the arrangements. I packed my documents, then gathered the baby's medical records, follow-up appointment details, and the messages I'd sent Adrian asking for help with the medical bills. In those messages, I was the one doing almost all the talking. The surgery is scheduled. The bills and follow-up expenses are more than I can cover alone. Can you just transfer the money first, please? He took several hours to reply. Tell me in advance when you need money. Stop coming to me at the last minute. At the time, he'd been at an auction with Rosalind. I saved the records and sent them to the lawyer. My lawyer replied that they would investigate the transfers and compile evidence that I had always been the baby's primary caregiver. Looking at the documents I'd gathered, I finally felt a little more secure. I would no longer let Adrian alone decide what I could take with me. I would fight for what belonged to me and my son. By the time I was done, it was dark outside. The nanny came in holding the baby and said he'd just finished his bottle. My son smiled when he saw me. I took him into my arms and gently touched his cheek. In two more days, we'd be gone.

The next day, I started packing. The baby had a lot of things, and one bag filled up fast. For myself, I only took a few pieces of clothing. I didn't touch the jewelry or the designer bags. Whenever Adrian gave me a gift, he said he would never let me go without anything other women had. Only later did I understand that giving me things and taking me seriously were two different matters. That morning, the donation coordinator called me back. After checking the paperwork, she confirmed that the donation had been handled according to my mother's wishes, that Adrian had not selected the recipient, and that the later exchange of identifying information had gone through the eye bank's consent process. I asked her to send me a replacement copy of the donation acknowledgment, then texted Adrian to ask whether Rosalind knew. He replied quickly. "I told her after the surgery. She's always been grateful to Mom. Stop using this to upset her." I looked at the word "grateful" and thought of the little quilt covered in vomit. "She knew what my mom did for her, and she still ruined the keepsake Mom left for her grandson. That's her gratitude?" He didn't reply. I put the donation acknowledgment with my mother's photograph. Her wishes had been respected, and that gave me peace. But I would not forgive their deceit or their disrespect on her behalf. Just then, my lawyer texted, asking me to send one more document. I told the nanny to keep an eye on the baby and went to the study. Not long after, I heard arguing outside the door. "Miss Vaughn, he just finished his bottle. You shouldn't bounce him like that." "What's wrong with me holding him for a minute?" I went out right away. Rosalind was standing at the top of the stairs with the baby in her arms. The nanny hovered anxiously beside her, unsure what to do. When she saw me, the nanny rushed to explain. "Ma'am, Miss Vaughn said Mr. Blackwood told her to bring the baby downstairs. I wouldn't hand him over, so she took him herself." I walked over. "Give me my son." Rosalind didn't move. "Adrian said I should spend more time with Ross. I lost a baby once. Seeing him makes me feel a little better." "Don't use my child to make yourself feel better." Her expression changed. "Evelyn, do you always have to be so nasty?" I held out my hands. "Give him to me." The baby was uncomfortable in her arms and started to cry. Rosalind glanced down at him and curled her lip. "What are you crying for? It's not like I'm going to hurt you." I supported the baby's back, took him from her, and handed him straight to the nanny. "Take him to his room and close the door." The nanny hurried off. I turned back and stopped Rosalind. "You knew those corneas came from my mother?" She shot me a look. "Sure. Adrian told me ages ago." "The box said 'From Grandma.' Why did you use the quilt inside to wipe up your vomit?" She laughed impatiently. "She was dead anyway. Might as well contribute something. The corneas had to go to someone. She should have been honored that I accepted them. What do you want me to do, put her on a pedestal?" I stared at her. "You took my mother's corneas, and then you ruined her keepsake. Rosalind, how do you have the nerve to say something like that?" Rosalind's face darkened. She glanced at the baby's door. "Evelyn, you think having a kid means you get to keep your place as Mrs. Blackwood forever?" "What's that supposed to mean?" "Adrian said if you keep making scenes, he'll send you away on your own to cool off. You can leave, but the baby stays with the Blackwood family." My hands slowly curled into fists. When I didn't say anything, Rosalind's tone grew even breezier. "If you still want to be Mrs. Blackwood, stop digging up those old medical records to scare me. Otherwise, if you ever want to see your son, you'll probably have to ask me first." "You have no right to make decisions for him." "You'll find out soon enough whether I have the right." The front door opened downstairs, and Adrian walked in. The sneer vanished from Rosalind's face, and her eyes filled with tears. "Evelyn, I've always been grateful to your mom. You've been so emotional lately, and I don't blame you. I only came today to see the baby. You can't just hurt me for no reason!" Before she finished speaking, she seized my wrist and pulled me toward her. Then she deliberately stepped backward down a stair and fell. I caught the railing on instinct. A sharp pain shot through my wrist, and my knee slammed into the step. She landed on the steps below and immediately began to cry. Adrian rushed upstairs and went straight to help her. "Where does it hurt?" "My foot..." I steadied myself on the railing. Blood from my knee had already soaked through my pants. Adrian looked up and snapped at me. "Evelyn, have you lost your mind?" I took out my phone and opened the security footage from the camera at the top of the stairs. We'd installed it after the baby was born. In the footage, Rosalind grabbed my wrist first, then fell down the steps. My other hand never left the railing. I hadn't pulled her. I saved it first, sent it to my lawyer, and only then handed the phone to him. Adrian watched, his expression briefly stiffening. Rosalind clutched his sleeve. "I lost my footing and tried to grab her... I panicked and thought she pulled me." He was quiet for a moment, then handed the phone back. "She lost her footing. There's no need to make such a big deal out of it." I looked down at my bleeding knee. He picked Rosalind up. Before heading downstairs, he said, "Delete the video. Don't let it get out and embarrass us." I didn't go after him. Back in my room, the nanny saw my injury and scrambled for the first aid kit. "Ma'am, you need to go to the hospital." I nodded and texted the department head, asking whether I could bring the baby in for his follow-up first and handle my onboarding afterward. The department head quickly put me in touch with a doctor who could see us. I put my phone away and asked the nanny to help me grab the diaper bag. She asked, "Are you coming back?" I looked at my son, sound asleep in his crib. "No. We're not coming back."

I took my son to the hospital for a checkup and had my own injuries treated while we were there. The doctor recommended keeping him one more night for observation. The department head had already arranged things with the receiving hospital, so we could transfer the next day. I had just updated my lawyer about the transfer time when Adrian pushed open the door. He saw the brace on my wrist and frowned. "It's that bad?" I didn't answer. When he carried Rosalind off earlier, I had been standing right there. He had seen me. He simply hadn't spared me any attention. He set down the food he'd brought and pulled over a chair. "I was too harsh earlier. Rosalind's ankle is swollen too. Let's put this behind us. Delete the video." So that was why he'd come. I took the divorce agreement out of my bag. "Read this first." He flipped through two pages without signing. His expression darkened. "You want to take my son?" "I've always been the one taking care of him." "How will you support him once you leave the Blackwood family?" "I have a job." "You've already packed everything?" "He's transferring hospitals tomorrow." "Evelyn, did I agree to that?" The baby woke with a start and began to cry. I picked him up and didn't argue any further. That was when Rosalind walked in and handed Adrian a lab report. "Adrian, something seems off about the baby's blood type." She glanced at me. "Given your blood types, how could the baby have..." Adrian read it, then his eyes snapped up to me. "Whose baby is this?" I reached for the report. "Let's have a doctor check it first." He moved it out of my reach and made a call. "Set up a paternity test." "She hands you one piece of paper, and you suspect me?" "Then why are you in such a hurry to take him away?" I looked at him, took out my phone, and texted my lawyer. He's at the hospital. He's stopping me from transferring my son. The message had barely gone through before my phone was snatched away. Adrian called in the bodyguards waiting in the hallway. "Keep an eye on her until the results come back." They moved into the room before the ward staff could intervene. His orders had no authority here, but they were blocking the door anyway. From behind him, Rosalind said softly, "And what about how she made me lose my baby? We can't just keep letting that go." Adrian looked at me. "You owe Rosalind an answer for that too." "I never hurt her." The words were barely out when a woman in scrubs came in wearing a hospital badge and said she needed to take the baby. I held my son tighter. "Where's his attending doctor? Whatever you need to do, I'm going with him." Adrian impatiently signaled the bodyguards to hold me back and reached for the baby. I refused to let go. My son began crying in fright. "Stop pulling me! You'll hurt him!" While I shielded the baby's head, he took my son from my arms and handed him to the woman. I went after them. "He's still recovering from surgery! Ask his attending physician first!" No one paid any attention to me. Rosalind followed the woman out the door. I blocked Adrian's way. "You're the one who handed him over. Go with them. Don't let her touch him." He pushed my hand away. "Rosalind cares more about the baby than you do." The door shut. My son's crying grew fainter and fainter, and I didn't even know where they had taken him. I pressed the call button, asked the nurse to find my son, and wrote down my lawyer's number for her. The nurse had barely left when Rosalind slapped a sheet of paper down in front of me. "Sign it, and you can see your son."

It was a written confession, requiring me to admit that I had deliberately misdiagnosed her and caused her to lose her baby. "Aren't you going to the research center? Sign this, and I'll deliver it to your department head myself." I didn't touch the pen. "Let me see my son first." A few minutes later, the woman came back carrying him. His arms hung limp, his lips had a purple tinge, and there was a new needle mark on his arm. I snatched him into my arms. "What did you give him?" The woman panicked. "You said it was only to keep him quiet for a while..." Rosalind shoved her out the door. "Don't talk nonsense!" I ran for the door with my son, but the bodyguard blocked it. "Mr. Blackwood's orders. You can't leave." "Get a doctor! He's not breathing!" Adrian rushed in, and Rosalind threw herself into his arms. "She wouldn't take the test, so she went after the baby!" I had no time to explain. I laid my son on the bed and began trying to resuscitate him. Adrian grabbed my arm and yanked me back. "Evelyn, have you lost your mind?" "Let go! I'm saving him!" As the bodyguard dragged me away, my son's tiny hand slid off the edge of the bed. Only then did Adrian get a clear look at his face. "Doctor... get a doctor!" The medical staff rushed into the room and pushed past everyone in their way. The monitor suddenly blared an alarm. "His heart's stopped. Keep going!" Adrian froze in the doorway. I broke free of the guard, told the doctor my son's symptoms and what the woman had said, and ran alongside the bed toward the resuscitation room. That was when Rosalind pressed a hand to her chest and crumpled. "Adrian, I can't breathe..." He caught her on reflex. I stopped and looked at his back. "Adrian, they're trying to save your son." He turned around, his forehead slick with sweat. "There are doctors in there! You studied medicine yourself. You know that! Look at Rosalind—I can't just leave her!" He picked her up, turned, and walked away. The door of the resuscitation room closed in front of me. I didn't call out to him again. Hours later, that door finally opened. The doctor called my name. I went in, steadying myself against the wall. When I came out again, all I held was the little quilt Mom had left. Adrian came back just then. Rosalind had her arm through his, her steps a lot steadier than before. "Where's the baby?" I looked down and tucked the edge of the clothing protruding from my bag back inside. "Gone." Adrian seized my shoulders. "What do you mean, gone? Aren't you a doctor? Why didn't you save him?" I raised my eyes to him. "When I tried to save him, you had me dragged away." His hands went stiff, then slowly let go. Rosalind said softly, "Adrian, the test results aren't back yet. He might not even be yours..." I looked at her and suddenly laughed. "That's right. He isn't his. And from now on, he never will be." I laid the divorce papers on top of the confession and took back my documents and the diaper bag. Adrian moved to block the door without thinking. "Evelyn, where are you going?" "Didn't you say I could leave, but the baby had to stay?" I unfolded the empty quilt and held it out to him. "Are you still going to stop me?" He stared at the quilt, then slowly stepped aside. "My lawyer will contact you about the divorce." I didn't look back. At dawn, the transport vehicle the department head had arranged arrived. A nurse placed a small swaddled bundle in my arms. My son's eyes were closed, and his warm breath brushed lightly against the back of my hand. My son was alive. Adrian didn't need to know. I tucked in the corner embroidered with Stay safe, held my son close, and left the hospital.