I Was Dying, But My Husband Chose Her

Blood rose in my throat, hot and metallic, before I could reach the sink.

I doubled over the marble counter, clutching my ribcage. The spasms ripped through my chest, each tremor sharper than the last. I fumbled for my phone with slippery, trembling fingers and pressed speed dial.

Alexander answered on the fourth ring.

"Alexander," I gasped, barely able to breathe. "It’s happening again. The pain—I can’t breathe."

"Emma, stop it." His voice sounded clipped, punctuated by the faint hum of hospital monitors in the background. "Victoria's temperature just spiked to a hundred and two. The nurses are switching her IV."

"I am throwing up!" I choked out, tears blurring my vision. "Alex, please. Come get me—"

"Victoria is shivering, Emma. She is terrified of needles, and you know how delicate her constitution is." A heavy sigh came through the receiver. "You always find a way to create an emergency whenever I’m taking care of her. Take your pain meds and lie down."

"Alexander—"

The line went dead.

My knees gave out. I hit the cold floor, the receiver clattering beside my hand.

The phone suddenly buzzed against the tile. It was Dr. Lucas Meyer, my primary cardiologist at Sterling Medical Center. He had been monitoring my cardiac condition for over a year.

"Lucas..." I wheezed into the speaker.

"Emma? Thank God you picked up," Lucas's urgent tone cut through my haze. "Your lab work from this morning just flagged critical. Your cardiac markers are through the roof. Where are you? Are you home? Is Alexander with you now?"

"Alexander hung up," I whispered, every syllable feeling like broken glass. "He’s at the hospital with Victoria."

"Stay on the floor. Don’t move. I’m calling Alexander right now to authorize your immediate admission. I will send an ambulance to you."

"Lucas, hurry..."

Ten miles away, across the city at Sterling Medical Center, Lucas stormed toward the private recovery suite.

He kicked the door open, ignoring the startled nurse adjusting a saline drip. Alexander sat beside the VIP bed, smoothing Victoria’s dark hair while she rested against silk pillows.

"Mr. Thorne," Lucas said, his breathing ragged from running down the east wing. "Your wife is in acute heart failure. I need your signature right now to dispatch the specialized cardiac transport unit to your residence."

Alexander didn't flinch. His fingers stayed laced with Victoria's. "Lower your voice, Lucas. Can’t you see Victoria is resting?"

"Did you hear a word I said?" Lucas shoved the electronic tablet toward him. "Emma's vitals are dropping. She will die!"

A soft whimper broke the tension.

Victoria stirred against the pillows, her eyes red-rimmed and moist. She shrank back into the blankets, pulling Alexander’s sleeve toward her cheek.

"Alex..." Victoria sobbed softly, her voice small and trembling. "Why is he shouting at me? My head hurts so bad..."

"It’s alright, Tory," Alexander murmured, leaning closer to shield her. "Nobody is shouting at you."

"Why would the doctor care so much about your wife?" Victoria sniffed, lifting wide, innocent eyes to Alexander’s stony face. "He came charging in here like a madman. Is there something between them?"

Lucas froze, stunned by the sheer venom masked behind her fragile tone. "Excuse me? I am her physician, Miss Vance. She is in mortal danger!"

"Look at how he talks to you, Alex," Victoria wept, trembling against Alexander’s chest. "He’s disrespecting you in front of everyone. Does Emma talk to him about us? Is that why he hates me?"

Alexander’s jaw hardened into granite. He rose from the edge of the bed, towering over the physician. The coldness in his gray eyes was absolute.

"You’re out of line, Lucas," Alexander snapped.

"I am trying to save your wife's life!" Lucas shouted back, refusing to back down. "Sign the transfer! Let me bring her in!"

"You're not bringing anyone anywhere," Alexander said, his tone icy and detached. "You’ve crossed a boundary. Your personal attachment to my wife has compromised your judgment."

"Are you insane?"

Alexander took his phone from his pocket and dialed hospital security. "This is Alexander Thorne. Revoke Dr. Lucas Meyer’s privileges immediately. Clear his office and escort him off Sterling Medical Center grounds. If he sets foot near my wife’s records again, have him arrested."

"Alexander, you can't do this!" Lucas grabbed Alexander’s arm, but Alexander shoved him off with a violent jerk of his elbow.

"Touch me again, and I’ll ensure you never practice medicine in this country," Alexander warned. "Get the hell out."

Security officers swarmed the hallway seconds later, pinning Lucas’s arms behind his back.

"She’s going to die, Alexander!" Lucas yelled as they dragged him toward the elevators. "Her blood work is fatal! Look at the screens! Look at the labs!"

Alexander turned his back to the door, smoothing down the lapel of his tailored suit.

"Alex..." Victoria whispered, wiping a tear from her cheek. "You didn't have to ruin his career for me."

"He was inappropriate," Alexander said calmly. "And Emma needs to learn where her place is."

Two hours later, the front door of Sterling House slammed shut.

I was curled on the living room rug, shaking uncontrollably, every breath sounding like dry paper rubbing together. My vision drifted in and out of focus.

Heavy footsteps stopped beside me.

Alexander scooped me off the floor with effortless strength. There was no warmth in his arms—only the rigid restraint of an annoyed warden. He carried me up the sweeping staircase and tossed me onto our king-sized bed.

"Lucas tried to help me," I managed to croak out, clutching his lapel. "Alexander... the hospital... take me..."

He reached into my pockets, pulling out my phone. Then he picked up my purse from the vanity, dumping the contents onto the dresser until he found my car keys.

"What are you doing?" I gasped.

Alexander slipped the keys and my phone into his pocket. "Lucas made a scene in front of Victoria. Accused me of neglect. Humiliated her."

"He was trying to save my life!"

"He was feeding your delusions," Alexander retorted, leaning over the mattress, his face inches from mine. "You orchestrated that little drama with him to pull me away from Victoria’s bedside. It won't work anymore."

"I am dying, Alexander!" I cried out, my voice cracking. "Look at me!"

He scoffed, adjusting his cuffs with cold precision. "You look tired because you stay up inventing crises. You’re staying right here. You don’t leave this room. Rest. Sleep it off."

"Give me my phone," I begged, stretching out an arm that shook so violently I couldn't hold it straight. "Please, just let me call an ambulance—"

"No more theatrics," he ordered. "The staff is instructed to keep the gates locked. You don’t get to manipulate doctors against me."

He stepped out into the corridor and closed the heavy oak door behind him. The lock clicked shut with a brutal, final snap.

Night fell over the estate, dragging the temperatures down with it.

The pain tore through my sternum like molten metal. I slipped off the mattress and collapsed against the wooden floorboards, curled into a fetal position. I couldn't expand my lungs. Every inhale was a battle I was losing.

Then, a soft, warm snout pushed into my palm.

Archie, my golden retriever, crawled onto the floor beside me. His dark eyes watched me with quiet panic. He rested his massive, furry head over my chest, letting out a low, mournful whine as he licked the salt from my cheeks.

He pressed his warm body against my freezing limbs, refusing to leave my side even as I gasped and shuddered.

Around two in the morning, the door lock clicked.

Alexander stepped inside, holding a fresh glass of water. His eyes scanned the darkened room before landing on my huddled form on the carpet.

I could barely lift my eyelids. My skin felt clammy, burning hot and freezing cold at the same time.

Alexander set the glass on the nightstand, glancing down at me with utter contempt.

"Still putting on an act?" he said, shaking his head. "You don’t get to weaponize your illness every time Victoria needs me."

He turned and walked into his adjoining study, slamming the door between us.

I buried my face into Archie’s thick golden coat, wrapping my weak, trembling fingers around his fur.

"At least you still know I’m your family," I whispered into the dark.

Archie let out another soft whine, his ears perking up as a sudden, sharp tapping sounded from the nightstand.