THE WOMAN WHO LEFT ME AT THE ALTAR FIVE YEARS AGO WAS TRAPPED IN A CAR WRECK TODAY. I WAS THE PARAMEDIC WHO SAVED HER—AND THEN I LEARNED THE TRUTH.

Eleanor recovered quickly, her spine stiffening. "Marcus, she has a head injury. She’s delusional. You can't possibly believe a word that gold-digger says."

"She said you forced her to leave," I stated, my fists clenching at my sides.

"Oh, please. She was a barista drowning in student debt. She panicked because she knew she didn't belong in our family," Eleanor sneered, lowering her voice so the triage nurses wouldn't hear. "She ran away like a coward. And whose child is that? She probably got pregnant by some deadbeat the second she left you."

"Her name is Mia," I said, my voice shaking with a rage I had never felt before. "She is five years old. You do the math, Mother."

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. "If you think I will let some street trash con you into fathering a bastard child to get access to the Thorne family trust, you are out of your mind."

"Get out," I said.

"Marcus—"

"Get out of this hospital before I have security drag you out!" I roared.

The entire waiting room went silent. Nurses turned their heads. David stepped forward, ready to intervene.

Eleanor’s jaw tightened. She shot one last venomous glare at Mia, then turned and walked out the automatic doors into the freezing rain.

Two hours later, the lead trauma surgeon walked out of the double doors. He looked exhausted.

"Marcus," Dr. Evans sighed, pulling off his surgical cap. "She had a severe subdural hematoma. We stopped the bleeding and relieved the pressure. She’s in the ICU. It’s touch and go, but she’s a fighter."

"Can I see her?" I begged.