Chapter 4 - Damaged Goods
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Three weeks passed. Clara gained weight steadily in the NICU, growing stronger with every passing day, while I was transferred to the hospital’s burn rehabilitation unit.
My recovery was brutal. Every day, physical therapists had to stretch the raw skin on my shoulder and neck to prevent scarring from locking my movement. I gritted my teeth through the agony without taking pain medication during nursing hours, determined to keep my breast milk clean for Clara.
On a Tuesday afternoon, the door to my room clicked open.
Julian walked in wearing a tailored gray suit. In his hand, he carried a thick white envelope. He didn't bring flowers. He didn't bring a card.
He walked over to the foot of my bed and tossed the envelope onto my tray table.
“What is this?” I asked quietly.
“Divorce papers,” Julian said, pulling out his phone to check the time. “And a petition for full custody of Clara based on your physical inability to care for an infant.”
I looked at the documents, then up at his cold, handsome face.
“You’re divorcing me while I’m in a burn unit?”
“Look at you, Elena,” Julian sneered, gesturing toward my bandaged neck and scarred shoulder with utter disgust. “I didn’t marry a damaged woman. Your skin is ruined, you’re emotional, and you’re useless to me. I’m not spending the rest of my life taking care of a invalid.”
He clicked a pen and held it out toward me.
“Sign the property waiver giving me the Hawthorne Lane house, and I’ll give you joint custody. Refuse, and I’ll tell the judge your burns were caused by your own negligence, rendering you unfit as a mother.”
My hands shook, but not from fear. From pure, unadulterated fury.
I took the pen from his hand. I turned to the back page and signed only the line that acknowledged I had received the papers.
“There,” I said softly.
Julian grabbed the folder, smiling triumphantly. “Smart girl. You always knew when you were beaten.”
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The moment the door shut behind him, I picked up the bedside landline and dialed a number I knew by heart.
“Sarah,” I said when my father’s attorney answered. “Julian just served me. It’s time.”
