On the day of my prenatal checkup, my husband's childhood sweetheart, Maya Crane, volunteered to drive me to the hospital herself.

Halfway there, she suddenly let out a cold laugh.

"Lara Quinn. You don't deserve Mason Sterling.

"You don't deserve to carry his baby."

My heart dropped. I clutched my stomach and tried to jump out of the car.

However, before I could move, she jerked the steering wheel–sending my side of the car straight toward an oncoming truck.

The truck swerved at the last second. Her side slammed into the guardrail.

Maya was dead at the scene. I was hemorrhaging, and the baby almost came too early.

In her last breath, dying in the wreck, she sent Mason a message.

[Mason… Lara did this to me on purpose…]

The police investigated for half a month and ruled me innocent.

Mason grieved, but he stayed by my side, caring for me with obsessive tenderness while I recovered.

The day I was discharged, he took me to the seaside.

Then he shoved me into the ocean. His voice was cold and merciless.

"Don't think destroying the evidence means you're safe. You caused her death. Pay for it with your life."

The sea filled my lungs.

And when I opened my eyes again–I was back to the day of my prenatal checkup.

There was a wall of metal sound, and then everything in my body lit up at once.

I jerked my eyes open. My side was pinned under the car. That was when it landed: I had been given a second chance.

A few yards away, Mason Sterling was already running toward the wreck in his rescue-squad jacket, his crew at his back.

The pain in my belly was rolling out in long pulses. The blood was already coming down my thigh.

I had been here before. This time I did not waste my voice begging for him to save me first.

I dragged my phone out and dialed for an ambulance myself.

In my last life, Maya had not actually been hurt that badly.

Mason came running up. I had screamed at him to save the baby first. He had hesitated when he saw how much blood was on me, and started toward me.

Maya had thrown herself into a hysterical fit at exactly the right moment, somehow knocked something on the dash, and the car had gone up in flames.

By the time Mason and the squad got her out, it was too late.

While she was burning to death in that wreck, she had still found the strength to send him a final message blaming me.

I was not making the mistake of waiting on Mason this time.

He was at the side of the wreck now. His eyes traveled over the blood on me, and something in his face hesitated.

I did not say a word.

Maya started crying somewhere behind him, and I watched his face change.

"Lara. Maya is in bad shape. Let me get her first

"You're tough. Hold on a little longer…"

I had known he was going to say it. Hearing it still set something off behind my ribs.

The second he turned away from me to lift Maya out of the car, my ambulance arrived.

The medics came running over. Mason stepped toward them like a man being thrown a rope.

"There. Take Maya. Get her to the hospital."

The lead medic looked at him and shook his head.

"Sir, traffic is backed up for miles. Only one rig has made it through. We can only transport one of them right now.

"This woman's situation is not urgent. The second rig will be here in a few minutes!

"This woman is pregnant. She has priority!"

The medics tried to come for me. The car pinning me down stopped them.

The lead medic spun back to Mason. "What are we waiting for. Use your equipment to lift this car off her."

"She is hemorrhaging! We do not have time!"

The urgency on the medic's face slid onto Mason's.

He took half a step toward the car. Maya's voice drifted over.

"Mason, there's so much blood. My chest hurts. Everything hurts. Am I going to die?"

She fainted in his arms on the last word.

He held her tighter. He looked over at me.

"Lara. Can you give the ambulance to Maya? You're still conscious. Wait for the next one. Maya is dying."

"Give it to her."

The fury came up out of nowhere and ate the fear.

The blood was already cold under me.

In my last life, that delay had taken every chance my son ever had. It had given him cerebral palsy. He had spent his entire short life in pain because of one decision in this exact spot.

I was not going to let that happen again. Not even if it killed me.

I pulled in everything I had left. My voice came out clear.

"No.

"Mason, I am a mother. The baby and I take priority. That is the only answer I have for you."

His face went tight.

Maya stirred against his shoulder, perfect timing, and let out a small whimper. "It hurts."

His eyes filled.

A few of the medics were trying to lever me out from under the car. They did not have enough leverage.

Mason looked at me for a moment. Something in him decided.

"Lara, if you're going to be like this. Do not blame me for what comes next.

"Give up the ambulance and I'll get you out from under the car right now.

"If you don't…"

He met my eyes. There was a threat in his.

"Then you stay there. Let's see how long a pregnant woman can hold out under a car!"

His words went into me like a knife.

He was willing to use the baby as leverage. For her.

Maya's face was white against his shoulder.

"Mason, I'm fine… If Lara doesn't want to give it up, please don't make her.

"I'm brave. I'm not afraid to die."

His brow drew down hard.

The blood on me was making me cold. I forced what voice I had left.

"Mason. I am not lying to you. There is so much blood."

Maya cut her eyes to one of the men behind him.

The crew closed in around me.

There was something accusing in the way they looked at me.

One of them, a man Maya had always been close with, spoke first, his patience already gone.

"Mrs. Sterling. You are out of line. Maya is dying. Are you really going to fight her for the rig?

"And if it were that bad, you'd be unconscious by now. Where are you finding the breath to argue?"

The rest of the squad piled in.

"There's another rig coming. You really need to take this one off a dying woman."

"This isn't about jealousy, is it. You picking now to put on a show."

I started to shake. The tears came down whether I wanted them or not.

"Mason. I am not putting on a show.

"I am a mother. I would not use my own baby for sympathy. You know me."

He turned his head toward me. His eyes lingered on the blood for three seconds.

"Lara, you disappoint me."

I looked at him without saying anything, and my mind went back five years.

That was the year Maya had moved overseas with a boyfriend, and Mason had been at the bar every night drinking himself stupid.

I had taken him home. Again and again. I had sat with him through hangovers. I had let my warmth do the work of healing what she had cracked in him.

The way he looked at me had softened.

On my birthday, he had taken my hand and said, "Lara. Be my girlfriend. I know you have always been good to me. Let me take care of you for the rest of your life."

The way he had looked at me had not been an act. I had been sure of that.

I had stayed. Through the brutal training, through every bad call, through every wound he came home with.

For years, he had been a soft, attentive husband. I had thought we were going to be happy forever.

Then Maya had come back.

Within days, the way he had cared for me transferred to her, point for point.

He had said all his life that Maya was a sister to him. But what they did with each other was always a step over the line.

It took me a long time to understand. I had been the substitute. I had been the placeholder he held when he was angry at her.

Maya came back, and I was nothing.

The lead medic's voice broke me out of it.

"The fetus is in serious distress. Any further delay and we lose them both."

Mason's mouth opened. Before he could speak one of his men jumped in.

"Maya is the squad's little princess. Anything happens to her on our watch, we are not letting it slide. The next rig is coming up the road right now. Let Maya go in this one. We'll get Mrs. Sterling out."

Mason heard them and his face composed itself again.

"All right, Lara. Stop it. I'll send Maya now and come back for you."

He carried her into the rig. The lead medic tried to argue. Two of Mason's men shoved the medic into the rig with her.

The doors slammed. The siren came up. The rig was gone.

Mason did not look back at me.

The pain in my belly came in waves now. Something was peeling off the inside of me.

There was a hot flood between my legs. I screamed.

The world went black.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed.

The nurse told me, gently, that a farmer who lived nearby had finally pulled me out from under the car. He had worked at it for almost an hour.

By the time they got me to the hospital, the baby was already gone.

I held the tears back. I stared at the ceiling.

Before I had finished processing that I had lost a child, the internet was already on fire.

Someone had filmed the crash site. The clip had been edited and spread everywhere.

In the version on the internet, I was a temperamental pregnant woman who had been driving drunk and caused the accident. I had thrown a fit at the rescue site, occupied resources, and almost killed Maya.

The pile-on came overnight. The whole country wanted me dead.

"This woman is sick. How can a person be this disgusting?"

"Using her pregnancy as a weapon. Going after a rescue squad. Awful."

"I hope she miscarries."

Every kind of rot ended up in my mentions.

Mason, by sending Maya first, had picked up a fan club.

People said he had separated himself from his wife in the field, that he had not let personal life interfere with the job. People said he had handled it with grace.

He had traded my child for a halo.

I was the maniac woman every comment section in the country was throwing rocks at.

I gripped my phone hard.

I had lost the baby this time too. I had not been able to stop that. But this time I had walked into it knowing what was going to happen.

I was going to make Maya pay for him.

I called my lawyer to start drawing up the divorce papers. I started gathering evidence from the crash site, in person, while my body was still wrecked.

For all those days, Mason did not visit me once.

Every minute of his time was for Maya.

On her birthday, I scrolled to a post Maya had put up on her social feed.

It was inside the apartment Mason and I had picked together. There was a candlelit dinner on the dining table.

Next to the wine, there was a small jewelry box. Inside, the diamond pendant I had wanted for two years and never let myself buy.

She was wearing my best dress. She was leaning into Mason's shoulder. The caption read: 'Thank you for spoiling me, Mason. It's so nice to have a home.'

Open daylight provocation.

I did not call Mason crying this time. I did not push him to choose between us.

I tapped the like button. I commented one line.

[Everything in there is going to be yours soon enough.]

It took less than a minute for Mason to call me.

I had been about to bring up the divorce. He went off before I could open my mouth.

"Lara. What is this?

"Maya is a sister to me. That is all she has ever been.

"She had an accident. I bought her a present. She put on one of your dresses for the photo. What is your problem with that? Why do you have to go after her in public?"

The same script.

He was about to tell me, again, that his calculation in the field had been about how serious Maya's injuries had been, and that he had owed it to the team. He was about to tell me, again, that I should be understanding.

He knew exactly what the online mob was doing to me. He had not sent me one consoling message.

The patience burned all the way out of me.

"Mason, stop talking!"

The accusation cut off mid-word.

I let out a long, slow breath.

"My position is simple. I want a divorce."