Chapter 3 - The Broken Seal
The VIP suite on the fourth floor of Mercy General was larger than the apartment Anne and Sarah lived in. It featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the hospital’s private garden, plush leather sofas, a private kitchenette, and a bed that looked more like a luxury hotel setup than a medical frame.
Anne lay in the center of the bed, her pale face almost blending into the white linen sheets. An IV line ran into the back of her left hand, and a monitor hummed softly beside her, displaying a steady, rhythmic heartbeat.
Sarah had been bathed by a gentle pediatric nurse, dressed in a pair of clean, soft yellow pajamas brought from the hospital gift shop, and fed a warm bowl of soup. Now, exhausted by trauma and sugar, she was fast asleep on the wide leather sofa across from her mother's bed, holding the rag doll tight against her chest.
Matthew stood by the window, staring out at the rain slicking the glass.
In his hand, he held a thin manila envelope that Marcus had retrieved from the local police station—the personal belongings found in Anne’s purse at the scene of the accident.
Inside was a wet, worn leather wallet containing twenty-seven dollars in cash, a bus pass, a library card, and a folded piece of paper encased in a clear plastic sleeve to protect it from water.
Matthew pulled the folded paper out.
It was an old, faded newspaper clipping from five years ago. The headline read: SULLIVAN ENERGY ANNOUNCES ENGAGEMENT OF HEIR MATTHEW SULLIVAN TO ELIZABETH VANE.
Below the headline was a photograph of Matthew standing on a balcony at a charity gala, looking cold and indifferent alongside a smiling socialite.
Matthew’s breath caught in his throat. He remembered that night. It was the night his father, Arthur Sullivan, had announced a fake arrangement to the press to force Matthew back into line after Anne disappeared. Matthew had publicly repudiated the engagement two weeks later, but the damage had already been done.
Anne had carried that clipping in her wallet for five years. She had believed he had replaced her. She had believed he had chosen his family’s fortune over her and their unborn child.
"You idiot," Matthew muttered to himself, tears stinging his eyes as he looked at the worn paper. "You absolute idiot."
A soft sound came from the bed.
Matthew snapped his head around. Anne’s eyelids were fluttering. Her fingers twitched against the white sheet, and a low, painful groan escaped her pale lips.
Matthew dropped the envelope onto the coffee table and rushed to her side. He reached out, his hand hovering inches above hers, terrified that if he touched her, she might shatter into dust.
"Anne?" he whispered.
Anne opened her eyes slowly. The world was a blurry mass of white light and unfamiliar shapes. The smell of antiseptic was strong, but beneath it, she caught a faint trace of something else—a scent of sandalwood, rain, and expensive tobacco. A scent she had dreamed about every night for six long years.
Her vision focused gradually. The dark suit. The silvering temples. The sharp jawline. The grey eyes looking down at her with an intensity that burned through her fog of pain.
"Matthew?" she rasped, her throat dry and raw from the breathing tube that had just been removed hours earlier.
"Don't try to talk," Matthew urged gently, his voice shaking. He reached for a plastic cup of water on the nightstand, guiding the straw to her lips. "Drink a little bit. Slowly."
Anne took two tiny sips before pulling her head back. Her eyes darted frantically around the opulent room, confusion turning into instant, sharp terror.
"Where... where am I?" she panicked, her heart monitor rapidly speeding up—beep-beep-beep-beep. "Sarah! Where is Sarah? My baby—"
"She’s right here! She’s safe!" Matthew said quickly, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders to keep her from sitting up. "Anne, look at me. Look at my eyes. Sarah is fine. She’s asleep right across the room."
Anne turned her head slowly toward the leather sofa. When she saw Sarah curled up under a warm fleece blanket, breathing softly with her doll in her arms, the terror left her eyes, replaced by overwhelming weakness. She sank back into the pillows, tears welling up and running down her temples into her hair.
"She’s okay," Anne wept quietly. "She’s okay..."
"She saved your life, Anne," Matthew said, his hand finally dropping to cover hers on the bed. His warm fingers wrapped around her cold ones. "She brought a box of her dolls to the trauma surgeon and begged him to take everything she owned to pay for your surgery."
Anne let out a heartbreaking sob, covering her face with her free hand. "We... we don't have anything, Matthew. We don't have anything left."
"You have me," Matthew whispered, his voice thick with raw emotion. "You’ve always had me."
Anne froze. She pulled her hand out from beneath his, her face hardening into a look of defensive, wounded pride.
"Don't," she whispered bitterly. "Don't say that to me. You made your choice six years ago. You chose your father's money and your society life. Leave us alone, Matthew. Please... just pay whatever this room costs and let us go."
Matthew felt as though he had been struck across the face. "My choice? Anne, what are you talking about? You disappeared! You packed your things and left our apartment while I was at my midterm exams!"
"Because your father came to the apartment!" Anne cried out softly, afraid of waking Sarah, though her voice vibrated with years of suppressed rage. "He came with two armed guards and a check for five hundred thousand dollars! He showed me the legal documents, Matthew! He showed me that if I didn't leave, he would use his lawyers to put my brother in prison on fake charges and destroy my family's shop!"
Matthew felt the room tilt on its axis. "What?"
"He said I was a anchor dragging you down," Anne wept, her chest heaving against the monitor leads. "He said you were meant to run a global company, not waste your life living in a basement flat with a destitute art student! And then... then I found out I was pregnant."
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She looked at him with dark, fierce eyes that burned through his soul.
"I didn't take his money, Matthew. I threw his check in his face and I walked out with one suitcase because I was terrified he would take my baby away from me if he found out I was carrying a Sullivan!"
