10:07 AM, University of Chicago Medical Center, Private Wing.
Evelyn awoke to the smell of antiseptic.
Consciousness returned before sight—first sound: the distant hum of traffic outside, the soft roll of a cart in the hallway, the low, regular beep of medical equipment. Then touch: the foreign sensation of an IV in the back of her hand, the plastic smell of the nasal cannula, the slightly stiff texture of the sheets beneath her.
Finally, sight. She opened her eyes slowly. The ceiling first—white, unadorned, a recessed light turned off. She turned her head; her vision was blurry, taking a moment to focus.
A private room. About twenty square meters, simple and clean. A window on her right, blinds half-open, letting in a grey-white daylight. On the left wall, a heart rate monitor, its waveform pulsing steadily, numbers showing: HR 89, SpO2 98%, BP 110/70. An IV stand by the bed, two bags of clear liquid flowing into her through thin tubes.
She tried to move her right hand, immediately feeling a deep ache and weakness. Looking down, she saw a medical dressing on the back of her hand, the needle buried in a vein. A plastic wristband printed with her alias and patient number.
"You're awake."
The voice came from the doorway. Evelyn turned her head. Alex stood there. He'd changed out of last night's rain jacket, wearing a simple navy blue sweater and grey trousers, a tablet in his hand. He walked over, footsteps light, stopped by her bed, his eyes scanning the monitor screen before settling on her face.
"How do you feel?" His voice was温和, carrying the doctor's特有的 calm, devoid of excess emotion.
Evelyn opened her mouth to speak. Her throat was dry, painful, producing only a raspy whisper. Alex immediately picked up a cup with a straw from the bedside table, brought it to her lips. She took the straw, sipped slowly. The water was warm, with a faint electrolyte taste.
After drinking about a quarter, she released the straw, cleared her throat. Her voice was still hoarse, but functional. "...What time is it?"
"A little past ten. You've been asleep about six hours." Alex set the cup down, picked up his tablet, opened her chart. "Early-stage pneumonia triggered by an acute upper respiratory infection, with high fever. Temperature peaked at 39.8, now down to 37.9. Blood work shows elevated white cells, high CRP, typical bacterial infection. I've started you on pregnancy-safe antibiotics and antipyretics. Response looks good so far."
As he spoke, his gaze moved between the tablet and her face, observing her reaction. Evelyn just listened quietly, expression unchanged, as if hearing a pathology report about someone else.
"The baby..." she finally said, voice soft.
"Fetal heart rate monitoring is normal for now. High fever in early pregnancy carries some risk, but with prompt detection and control, most cases have no long-term impact. However, we need close observation. Regular ultrasounds over the next few weeks to ensure normal embryonic development." Alex paused, added, "That's medical advice, not a scare tactic. I need you informed of all possibilities."
Evelyn nodded. Then she asked, "The cost?"
"Handled. I used the insurance info you gave me—the anonymous plan—to pre-authorize hospitalization. The out-of-pocket portion, I've advanced. The itemized bill is here; you can review." He turned the tablet towards her; the screen showed a detailed list of charges.
Evelyn glanced at the number. Private room, advanced antibiotics, 24-hour monitoring. Not insignificant, but微不足道 against her current assets. She looked back at Alex.
"Thank you. I'll transfer the funds to you."
"No rush." Alex put the tablet aside, pulled a chair to the bedside, sat down, hands folded on his knees, leaning forward slightly—a listening posture. "Now, I need to ask a few questions about your history and recent condition. This is important for treatment. Please answer honestly."
"Go ahead."
"Prior to this episode, were you experiencing fatigue, high stress, sleep deprivation, or irregular diet?"
"All of the above."
"For how long?"
Evelyn was silent for two seconds. "Stress levels have been consistently high for the past three months. Poor sleep quality, averaging four to five hours a night, frequent waking, vivid dreams. Decreased appetite, weight loss of about three pounds in the past week. Yesterday... significant emotional distress, prolonged walking in the rain, did not change out of wet clothes promptly."
She spoke calmly, as if recounting someone else's schedule. Alex's stylus moved quickly over the tablet screen, his expression devoid of judgment.
"You mentioned significant emotional distress. Related to a specific event?"
"I filed for divorce yesterday and left the marital residence."
Alex's writing hand paused for a heartbeat. He looked up at her, then continued recording. "Understood. Major life change, a high-intensity stressor. This type of stress significantly suppresses immune function, increasing infection risk."
"Also," Evelyn continued, her voice still even, "my pregnancy was confirmed the day before I filed. That is also a stressor."
This time, Alex stopped writing completely. He set the tablet down, looked directly into her eyes. His eyes were a deep brown,格外专注 under the room's冷白 light.
"Evelyn," he said her name, his tone more solemn, "as your physician, I need to confirm: Are you prepared, both psychologically and practically, to continue this pregnancy? This isn't a medical question; it's about quality of life and mental health. You've just left a high-pressure situation, and your physical condition is unstable. If needed, I can connect you with a professional reproductive counselor to help you assess all options, including termination. This is entirely your decision. The medical system is obligated to provide safe, confidential support."
The room was quiet for a few seconds. Only the steady beep of the monitor.
Evelyn's gaze moved from Alex's face to the window. The sky was still leaden. A few dry leaves, caught by the wind, stuck to the glass, then slid away.
"I've decided to have this child," she said, her voice quiet but each word clear. "It's not an impulse, nor a sense of duty to anyone. It's my choice. I need... a life connection that is truly mine. One that won't betray me."
She looked back at Alex. Her eyes held no plea for understanding, only statement. "I know it won't be easy. I know there will be challenges. But I've calculated the risks, assessed my own capacity. I can do it."
Alex looked at her for a long moment. Then, he gave a slight nod.
"Alright. Then as your doctor, my duty is to do everything possible to ensure your health and the baby's." He picked up the tablet again. "For the next few weeks, you must follow medical instructions strictly: medication on time, complete rest, balanced nutrition. I'll give you a detailed prenatal diet and exercise guide. Also, I recommend psychological counseling. Not to change your decision, but to manage stress, prevent prenatal depression or anxiety. It's very common; it doesn't mean you're weak."
"I'll consider it," Evelyn said. This was the most compromise she could offer.
"Also," Alex's gaze fell on her bare left ring finger—where a wedding band once was, now only a faint pale line remained, "regarding emergency contacts. Your current setup is too thin. If something similar happens again and I'm in surgery or a dead zone, the system can't reach me, causing delays. I suggest you set at least one backup contact, or consider hiring a 24-hour private nurse, at least for the pregnancy and early postpartum period."
Evelyn was silent, thinking. Alex's advice was sound, but she truly couldn't think of anyone else to trust. University friends were overseas, contact superficial for years. Her mother's old connections were distant. Her father... she wasn't even sure if he was alive, or if he'd acknowledge her.
"I'll find a way," she said finally.
"If you don't mind," Alex's voice was calm, as if discussing a treatment plan, "I can act as your healthcare proxy. That means in an emergency, I have legal authority to make medical decisions for you, provided you sign documents beforehand outlining the scope and limits. It's more formal than just being an emergency contact, but also safer. You can revoke it anytime."
Evelyn looked at him. This man, since becoming her family doctor three years ago, had always maintained a professional distance, never overstepping, never overflowing with pity. He prescribed, examined, advised, then politely concluded. Even during her most狼狈 visits—panic attacks triggered by Lucas's coldness, migraines from chronic insomnia—he simply treated the symptoms, never probing, never judging.
Now, he was offering to take on additional legal responsibility. This wasn't a casual offer.
"Why?" she asked.
Alex seemed to expect the question. He placed the tablet on his lap, re-folded his hands, his posture still professional, but his eyes held a touch of candor.
"Two reasons. First, as a doctor, I have a duty to provide the safest medical plan for my patients. Your current situation—alone, pregnant, recent major trauma—puts you in a high-risk category. A proper healthcare proxy setup is part of standard care. Second," he paused, choosing his words, "I've known you for three years, Evelyn. You're not someone who would casually put yourself in danger. Your device presets last night, your冷静 assessment today, all show you have strong self-protection instincts and planning skills. If you choose not to set other contacts, you have your reasons. But medical risk is objective. My offer is to build a safety net while respecting your autonomy. That's all."
He said "that's all" with a淡 tone, as if stating a medical fact.
Evelyn didn't speak. She looked out the window, the grey-white sky, bare branches. Then, softly, she said, "I need time to think."
"Of course. No hurry. Decide before discharge." Alex stood, took a business card from his pocket, placed it on the bedside table. "This is my direct line. It's on 24/7. Any discomfort, call me anytime. Also, I've asked the nurse to bring some liquid nutrition. You need calories. Lunch in about half an hour."
He walked to the door, hand on the handle, looked back. "One more thing. Hospital admission is confidential, and you used an alias, anonymous insurance. Theoretically, unless you disclose it, no one can trace you here. But if you're worried someone might look for you, if you need security arranged or a transfer, tell me."
"...Thank you."
Alex nodded and left.
The room returned to quiet. Evelyn lay against the pillows, looking at the ceiling. Her body was still weary, but her mind felt much clearer. The混沌 of the fever had receded, replaced by the清晰, slightly钝痛的 reality.
She raised her left hand—the one without the IV—and placed it lightly over her abdomen. Still flat, but she thought she felt a faint, unfamiliar warmth. An illusion? Or a mother's instinctive sensing?
"We'll be alright," she whispered, unsure if to the child or herself.
Then she closed her eyes, trying to rest. But her thoughts wouldn't stop. Alex's proposal circled in her mind. Healthcare proxy. Meaning handing part of the decision over her life to another person. A doctor she'd known for three years but never truly known.
Trust was a luxury. And she had just experienced a complete bankruptcy of it.
______
1:20 PM.
The door to the room opened. Not the polite, gentle knock of a nurse with a meal tray, but pushed open with a certain force,径直.
Evelyn opened her eyes.
Chloe Anderson stood in the doorway.
She wore a cream-colored Max Mara cashmere coat over a wine-red silk dress, stiletto heels. Makeup flawless, blonde hair pulled back in an impeccable chignon, revealing expensive diamond studs. In one hand, a Hermès Birkin bag; in the other, an ostentatious bouquet of white lilies—the kind with a strong, cloying scent, pollen notorious for allergies.
She stood at the threshold, her eyes sweeping the room—from the modest furnishings to Evelyn's pale face—a perfect, icy smile curving her lips.
"Oh, darling, I've been looking all over for you." Chloe's voice was sweet, but each syllable felt like a needle dipped in sugar. "Heard you were unwell, I simply had to come see. I hope I'm not disturbing your rest?"
Without waiting for an answer, she walked in, heels clicking sharply on the tile. She placed the lilies on the bedside table, right on top of Alex's business card. The浓郁 floral scent immediately filled the air, mixing with the antiseptic smell into something unpleasant.
Evelyn didn't speak, just looked at her calmly. Her hand moved under the covers, fingertips brushing the phone hidden under her pillow—retrieved from her bag this morning when the nurse wasn't looking. The screen was locked, but the recording function had been silently activated via a shortcut.
"How did you find me?" Evelyn asked, her voice still hoarse but steady.
"Lucas told me." Chloe sat in the chair by the bed, crossing her legs, placing the Birkin on her lap, posture as if at a high-end café. "He was worried, but couldn't get away today—some crucial merger meeting. So he asked me to check in. After all, you're all alone now. It's rather sad."
She said "sad" with no trace of pity in her eyes, only赤裸裸的优越感.
Evelyn didn't respond. She waited. For Chloe to reveal her real purpose.
"Honestly, Evelyn," Chloe leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "why do this to yourself? Staying in this... common room. I heard you couldn't even cover the bill yourself? A divorce is a divorce, but at least keep some dignity. Lucas offered you five million. Why be stubborn and tear it up? Now look, sick, and you can't even afford a private nurse."
She sighed, shook her head, the diamonds at her ears catching the light. "You know Lucas, he's soft-hearted. Seeing you like this bothers him. But he has me now. We're getting engaged soon. You continuing like this... clinging on... it's not good for him, for me, or for you."
"Clinging on?" Evelyn finally spoke, voice soft. "I filed papers yesterday, tore up a check, left New York. Which part is clinging?"
"Oh, don't be so literal." Chloe waved a hand, smile unchanging. "I mean, making yourself this pathetic on purpose, just to make him feel guilty, to make him come back? But darling, it's useless. Once a man stops loving you, no matter how much you suffer, he'll only find it annoying. See, he won't even come see you himself, just sent me. That says it all, doesn't it?"
As she spoke, she took a small velvet jewelry box from her bag, opened it, and pushed it towards Evelyn. Inside lay a diamond bracelet. The central stone was about three carats, surrounded by a halo of pavé diamonds, refracting刺眼的光芒 under the room lights.
"This," Chloe said, "is one of my engagement gifts from Lucas. I didn't want to flaunt it, but I thought... better you see. So you know he's moved on. You should too. Find a regular man, live a regular life. With your... qualifications... well, divorced, but with some effort, you might land a middle-class fellow. Better than this, lying here all alone."
Her words were like finely honed blades, each aimed at a vulnerable spot. Humiliation, belittlement, laced with炫耀. Classic Chloe.
Evelyn's gaze rested on the bracelet for two seconds, then moved back to Chloe's face.
"Are you done?" she asked, her tone still devoid of inflection.
Chloe's smile faltered slightly. The reactions she'd expected—tears, rage, collapse—were absent. The Evelyn before her just lay there, pale, but her eyes clear as frozen lakes.
It sparked a flicker of莫名烦躁.
"Evelyn, I'm saying this for your own good." Her voice cooled. "Be sensible. It's better for everyone. Sign the papers, take the money, leave quietly. Stop with this martyr act. It's unbecoming. And..."
She paused, leaned even closer, voice dropping to a malicious whisper:
"And, I heard you're pregnant? Funny, I've been trying myself lately. Lucas says he wants a son, to inherit the business. So, if that thing inside you really is his... well, you should think carefully. A Thorne heir isn't something just any woman can produce. Even if you have it, what do you think you'll get? Some child support? Let the child live its whole life in the shadow of being illegitimate? What's the point?"
The final strike. Aimed at her deepest vulnerability.
Evelyn's fingers tightened slightly under the covers. But her expression remained unchanged, only her eyes deepening, like undercurrents beneath ice.
"You're done." A statement this time.
Chloe stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled, leaning back in the chair, resuming her elegant composure.
"Well, seems you won't listen. I've said my piece. Flowers delivered, message passed on. Do as you will."
She stood, picked up her bag, smoothed her coat, turned towards the door. At the threshold, she stopped, looked back, offered one last perfect smile.
"Oh, and I left my card at the nurses' station. If you have trouble with the medical bills, you can call me. After all, we've known each other. I can't bear to see you too destitute. Goodbye, Evelyn. Good luck—though I suppose you don't need much, you've always been so 'strong,' haven't you?"
She pulled the door open. The sound of her heels faded down the hall.
The door swung shut softly.
The room was quiet again. Only the cloying scent of lilies and the steady beep of the monitor.
Evelyn lay still, looking at the ceiling. For a long time. Perhaps three minutes.
Then, she took the phone from under her pillow. The screen was lit, the recording interface showing: Recording Duration 00:08:47. File Saved. Encryption Code: EVC-2026-013-001.
She tapped stop, synced the file to her encrypted cloud storage, then deleted it locally. Next, she opened the camera, took several clear photos of the lilies on the table and the open jewelry box. Including the brand engraving inside the box—Harry Winston—and the unique serial number on the bracelet.
Done, she locked the phone, returned it under the pillow.
Then, she reached out and pressed the call button by the bed.
Ten seconds later, a nurse entered. "Ms. Sterling, do you need something?"
"Please take these flowers away," Evelyn said calmly. "I have花粉过敏. Also, this jewelry box isn't mine. Please take it to Lost and Found. If someone comes to claim it, ask for proof of purchase."
The nurse blinked, glanced at the expensive bouquet, the glittering diamonds in the box, seemed about to say something, then just nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
She gathered the flowers and the box and left. The last trace of the浓香 was gone, leaving only the clean,冷淡 smell of antiseptic.
Evelyn settled back, closed her eyes.
Under the covers, her hand rested lightly on her abdomen. Her fingertips trembled slightly, then steadied.
"Don't be afraid," she whispered, unsure to whom. "Every word she said will be a bullet for the future."
"And now, the bullet is chambered."
Outside, the sky remained overcast. But at the edge of the clouds, a hairline crack seemed to have appeared, leaking a thin, certain sliver of daylight.