Page 63 of Revenge
“Did something happen to Ava?” I ask in a panic.
“No.”
I let out a breath.
“Then why the fuck are you here?” I bark.
“Any updates?” He asks, ignoring me.
“No.”
It’s another twenty minutes before anyone comes to give us an update.
“Fiona Manarch’s family?” a man in scrubs asks.
“I’m Viktor Manarch, her husband. How is my daughter?” I ask, not caring about Fiona’s status.
“It was touch and go at first. I’m afraid to tell you it’s a waiting game now. Mrs. Manarch had a placental abruption.” I look at him, confused. “The placenta separated from the wall of her uterus. We had to perform an emergency c-section. Your daughter is in the NICU now. Her lungs are immature, and she only weighs four pounds.”
“Fuck,” I run my fingers through my hair. “And Fiona?” I finally ask, even though I could care less.
“She’s stable for now. We’ll know more in a few hours.”
“When can I see my daughter?”
“You can see her for a few minutes. We’re running tests.”
“Go, sweetheart. We’ll be here,” my mother says. Oliver grips my shoulder.
I could have lost my daughter. All Fiona thinks about is herself. Her recklessness could have killed my daughter. Now my daughter is in the NICU fighting for her life. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was pulling out to leave, and the next, Fiona fell. Was she holding on to the car? When I pulled out, did she trip and fall? I enter the NICU, where a few parents linger next to incubators. I follow the nurse’s instructions and go to the left, where my daughter is.
She looks so defenseless, so small. I walk to the incubator and can’t help my tears. I’m not a praying man, but I can’t help praying that I get to know her. To see her grow. To carry her in my arms and walk her down the aisle someday. To show her how much I already love her. I would do and give anything to make sure she has a future.
“You need to leave Mr. Manarch. We have to examine her,” a nurse tells me as she walks toward me.
I stand outside, watching as they probe her. She begins to cry, and every cry is like a knife piercing me. I don’t want to see her in pain. This shit is all Fiona’s doing. She will pay for putting my daughter through this.
“Sweetheart,” my mother says.
“Hi, Mom.” She stands beside me. “Look at my daughter. She’s beautiful,” I say, gazing adoringly at my daughter.
“She certainly is.”
“She looks so fragile.”
“I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, but you shouldn’t feel guilty about what happened. It was an accident.” I’m not sure why she says it.
“I do feel responsible. I was driving off when I saw her fall in the rearview mirror. She probably threw herself at the SUV to stop me, for all I know.” I continue to look at my daughter.
“You aren’t responsible. No one can say otherwise.”
“I hold myself responsible.”
She turns to me, so I have to look at her.
“If there’s anyone to blame, it’s Fiona. It’s clear she was doing something she shouldn’t have. How else would she have fallen?”
I turn to look at my daughter again.
