My body reacted before my brain could catch up. I grabbed Emma and drove full speed to the hospital, running through several red lights along the way.

As I pushed the gurney alongside the doctors into the ER, I ran straight into Jessica—who was carrying Oliver, mid-asthma attack.

She frowned but barely looked at me, then glanced at Emma's pale face on the gurney.

"Ryan, what are you doing now?" she said. "I just left the house, and now you two show up at the hospital. You'd go to any length to fake being sick, wouldn't you?"

She set Oliver down and took his hand. The boy was still a little short of breath, but his cheeks were rosy. He looked perfectly fine.

Mark, standing next to Jessica, sighed and shook his head. "Ryan, I hate to be the one to say this, but Jessica and I are divorced. You two are the married couple now. She and I only stay in touch because of our son."

His words sounded like advice, but the mockery in his voice was impossible to miss.

I didn't want to get into it with them. But Jessica grabbed my arm and raised her voice.

"What part of my warning didn't you understand? I left our daughter with you, and you can't even take care of her properly?"

In the struggle, Oliver reached over and yanked off Emma's wig. He pointed at her bald head and laughed.

"Uncle Ryan, why doesn't she have any hair? She's a bald girl! She looks so ugly."

My eyes went bloodshot. I shoved Oliver away, grinding my teeth. "Control your son!"

Then I turned to the doctor. "My daughter has acute leukemia. She's had a high fever and a nonstop nosebleed. Please—you have to save her."

Oliver had fallen flat on the floor after I pushed him. He was gasping and crying. Mark panicked, scooped him up, and started patting his back.

"Ryan!" Mark shouted. "Oliver has asthma—you know that!"

Jessica looked furious too. She stepped in front of the gurney, blocking it coldly, and stared at me.

"Apologize."

"No," I said. "No way. Jessica, Emma is really, seriously sick. If you don't care about her, fine—but stop coming around and making things worse."

None of this would have happened if it weren't for her. If it weren't for Mark and Oliver.

The doctor handed me a consent form to sign. Before I could even take the pen, Jessica snatched it out of my hand.

"You haven't apologized yet," she said. "And don't forget—I transferred all the money out of your bank account. You don't have a cent on you right now. So if you don't say you're sorry, I'm not paying for her surgery."

We were at a standstill when footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Then I heard a familiar voice and felt some of the tension leave my body.

"The medical bills are already paid. I'm Emma's mother."

Jessica's head whipped around. Her face went white.