“I should be asking you that,” she snapped.
I stared at her, trying to understand how this was happening. St. Catherine’s Women’s Center was on the north side, private enough that I had assumed only immediate family would know I was here. I had been admitted the night before for monitoring after my blood pressure spiked and the baby’s movements suddenly slowed. The doctors said stress wasn’t helping. No kidding.
Ethan was supposed to come by at noon.
Instead, his mistress had found me first.
“You need to leave,” I said. “Right now.”
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