After My Husband Chose His Mistress Over Our Baby

The call came at two in the morning. I was awake. I was always awake lately.

"Miss Carter? This is Mount Sinai. Your mother's been brought in. Cardiac episode. You need to come now."

I was dressed and out the door in three minutes. The subway took forever. I counted every stop. Every second.

When I got to the hospital, they told me she needed blood. A rare type. AB negative. They didn't have enough in stock.

"We're calling other hospitals," the nurse said. "But it's the middle of the night. It might take time."

"How much time does she have?"

The nurse looked at me. Didn't answer.

I called Keith. It rang four times. Voicemail. I called again. Again. On the fifth try, I texted: *Mom dying. Need help. Please.*

I paced the corridor. Watched the clock. Called him again.

A different number called back. I answered before I saw the name.

"Elisa." Athena's voice was smooth. Unhurried. "Keith's in a board meeting. He asked me to handle this."

I pressed my hand against the wall. "My mother needs blood. AB negative. I don't know who else to call."

"I can arrange that," Athena said. "I have connections at several blood banks. It won't be a problem."

Something in my chest loosened. "Thank you. Please. As fast as you can."

"Of course." A pause. "But I do need something from you first."

I stopped walking. "What?"

"A video call. Right now. Just a few minutes of your time."

My hand tightened on the phone. "Athena, my mother is dying."

"I know. That's why you're going to do exactly what I say."

The line went silent except for my own breathing.

"I'm sending you a video link," Athena continued. "Answer it. Kneel down wherever you are. I want to see your knees on the floor. Then you're going to slap yourself. Hard. Across the face. And you're going to say these exact words: 'I am nothing. I don't deserve to breathe the same air as Athena Pierce.' Say it clearly. Say it like you mean it."

I couldn't breathe. "You can't be serious."

"Do it, and I make one phone call. The blood arrives in twenty minutes. Don't do it, and your mother dies on that table while you stand in the hallway wishing you'd been smarter."

"Athena—"

"Clock's ticking, Elisa."

The line went dead.

My phone buzzed. A video call request.

I looked down the corridor. A nurse walked past, not looking at me. An old man sat in a plastic chair, asleep. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead.

I answered the call.

Athena's face filled the screen. She was in a restaurant somewhere. Soft lighting. Other people laughing in the background. She looked beautiful.

"Good girl," she said. "Now kneel."

I looked around. The corridor was empty now. Just me and the humming lights and the door to the operating room where my mother was dying.

I knelt.

The linoleum was cold through my jeans. I held the phone up so Athena could see my face.

"Perfect," she said. "Now slap yourself."

I raised my hand. It was shaking.

"Harder than that," Athena said. "I want to hear it."

I slapped myself. The sound cracked through the empty hallway. My cheek burned.

"Again."

I did it again. My eyes watered.

"Now say it."

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

"Say it, Elisa. Or I hang up and your mother dies."

"I am nothing," I whispered.

"Louder."

"I am nothing. I don't deserve to breathe the same air as Athena Pierce."

Athena smiled. It was a beautiful smile. The kind that belonged on magazine covers.

"Good," she said. "I'll make that call now."

The screen went black.

I stayed on my knees. My cheek throbbed. I pressed my palms together in my lap and waited.

Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty. Then an hour.

A doctor came out of the operating room. His mask was pulled down. His face was tired.

"Miss Carter?"

I stood up. My legs were numb.

"I'm sorry," he said. "We did everything we could. But the blood we received... there was a mix-up with the type. By the time we realized, it was too late."

I stared at him. "What?"

"Someone sent the wrong type. AB positive instead of AB negative. I don't know how it happened. We're investigating. But your mother went into shock. We couldn't save her."

The corridor tilted. I grabbed the wall.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," the doctor said.

He walked away. His footsteps echoed down the hall.

I slid down the wall. Sat on the floor where I'd been kneeling. My phone was still in my hand.

I opened my mouth. A sound came out. Not a scream. Not a cry. Something worse. Something that had no shape.

I lay down on the cold linoleum. Curled on my side. Pressed my hands over my mouth to stop the sound.

No one came.

I lay there until the lights started to blur. Until the sound stopped coming. Until I couldn't feel my hands anymore.

My mother was dead. I had knelt for nothing. I had debased myself for nothing.

Athena had lied.

And somewhere in Manhattan, Keith Armstrong was still in his meeting.