“I’m going to need to run some tests,” he says, turning to me. “I fear she may have pneumonia.”

“What?” I rasp.

“It can be caused from both viral and bacterial infections. The antibiotics would only have helped if it were bacterial. I have a feeling it isn’t, because she’s not showing signs of recovery after the antibiotics.”

My chest feels like it’s going to explode and my legs begin to shake. “W . . . w . . . w . . . what will happen if it is pneumonia?”

“It depends on the level it’s gotten to. We need to put her on a drip right away; she’s dehydrated. We’ll run some more antibiotics while we’re waiting for test results. She’s got fluid on the lung, I can hear that clearly. I’ll try some antiviral medication, too.”

“And if it gets worse?” I cry.

“We’ll deal with that if and when that time comes.”

“Could she die?” I whisper, my knees trembling.

“Pneumonia can be fatal, yes. However she’s in the safest place she can be. We’re going to take her for some tests. Unfortunately you can’t be there for all of them, but I assure you she’s in the best hands and we’ll let you know of any changes.”

“No,” I croak. “Please don’t take her away from me.”

“This is for the best, Mrs. Tandem. We’ll take care of her. I’ll have the nurse take you to a room; you can wait there. We’ll bring her back in as soon as we’re finished.”

“But she needs me,” I rasp.

He squeezes my shoulder. “She’ll be okay.”

Dad wraps his arms around my shoulder as they wheel Penny away. I cry out in agony and my knees buckle. “Is it my fault?” I sob.

“No, honey. Come on, let’s sit.”

“He needs to know,” I whisper.

“Who?”

“Marcus, he needs to know.”

My father sighs. “This isn’t the ideal time, but I agree. I’ll call him.”

I drop my head as he disappears down the hall. I begin sobbing, clutching my arms and praying through my tears that my daughter will be okay. Please, let her be okay.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

KATIA

“What’s going on?” Marcus asks, standing in front of me.

He’s wearing a suit, as if he’s been working all day. He probably has. My father didn’t tell him why he was here; he only told him he had to come.

“I need to tell you something . . .”

He stares at me. “Are you sick?”

“No.”

His face goes pale. “Katia . . . shit . . . are you pregnant?”

I wince in agony at the sound of his voice. Tears flow again and I wrap my arms around myself. “No,” I whisper. “No, but . . .”

“Jesus, Katia, don’t you think we’ve played enough fuckin’ games? Why am I here?”

I look up at him through my tears. It’s time. I know it’s time. But I wish I had done it sooner. This isn’t fair on him. He’s going to hate me even more for it.

“I’m here because”—I swallow and my body begins to shake—“because . . .”

“Katia,” he warns.

“I’m here because our daughter is sick.”

I hear his sharp intake of breath and look up in time to see him stumble back a few steps. His eyes are wide and confused, his mouth open. He shakes his head slightly, and then stares into my eyes.

“What did you say?”

“You have a daughter, Marcus,” I croak. “Her name is Penny and she’s just under a year old.”

“You’re lying,” he rasps, stepping back.

“No, I’m not. You’ve seen her. You saw her in the park with Candy . . .”

He stares at the wall and I see the moment it clicks. “No,” he breathes.

“She’s sick. They think pneumonia. I didn’t want to tell you like this, but . . .”

“But what?” he suddenly roars. “You think telling me about my child when she’s in danger is suitable?”

“Marcus,” I say, standing. “I never wanted you to find out like this.”

“Didn’t you?” He laughs bitterly. “You’ve done everything you can to destroy me, Katia. Most of it I deserved . . . but this . . .”

“Marcus.”

“You fucking bitch,” he breathes.

I flinch. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes dart about and his jaw tics. “You wanted to make me pay?” he rasps. “You wanted to make it burn? Well congratulations, you’ve gotten what you wanted. You’ve ripped my heart out, stomped on it and shoved it back in. Are you happy now? Does it feel good to know you’ve destroyed me?”

“Marcus,” I plead.

“Does it?” he screams, shocking me.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” he barks. “You’re sorry? I am a lot of fucking things, Katia. I’m a monster, I broke your heart, but I never, not fucking ever deserved to find out about my little girl while she’s on a bed, her life in danger.”

Tears run down my cheeks.

“You’re right. I know you are and I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He shakes his head, turning and charging down the hall.

“Marcus!” I cry, rushing after him.

He shoves through the front doors and out into the cold, pounding rain. I follow him, catching his jacket just before he reaches his car. He spins around and bellows, “How could you? How could you keep her from me? I hurt you; I know that. I’ve paid for what I did, don’t you think? But for you to keep her from me . . . did you think I wouldn’t love her? Did you think she wouldn’t matter?”