I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “I will burn the world down before I let them go back to that house.”
Before Sarah could reply, a doctor tapped on the glass door and stepped in. He looked exhausted, but the tight lines around his mouth had softened. “Mr. Mercer? Elsie is stable.”
I dropped my head into my hands, a jagged breath tearing out of my lungs.
“She was severely dehydrated and battling a nasty gastrointestinal infection,” the doctor explained. “It escalated rapidly because her body had no fuel to fight it. We’ve got her on aggressive IV fluids and broad-spectrum antibiotics. She’s sleeping naturally now. You got her here just in time.”
I nodded, unable to speak. I walked back to Micah, who was gnawing on a graham cracker a nurse had given him. “She’s okay,” I whispered to him.
He slumped against me, the tension finally leaving his tiny frame.
Just as I let myself believe the worst was over, the charge nurse approached me. Her face was unreadable. “Mr. Mercer? Can you step out here for a moment?”
I followed her into the hallway.
“We ran a routine family notification trace,” she said softly. “Another hospital flagged the mother’s information. Your ex-wife was admitted to Nashville General very early Saturday morning.”
My blood ran cold. “Admitted? For what?”
“She was in a severe car accident,” the nurse said. “She came in as a Jane Doe. Unconscious. The man driving the vehicle fled the scene on foot before paramedics arrived.”
Chapter 4: The Weight of the Truth
I stared at the nurse, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights suddenly deafening in my ears.
An accident.
A hot, ugly wave of fury washed over me first. She had abandoned our children—left a toddler and a kindergartener alone to starve—so she could go out drinking with some stranger who left her bleeding in a wrecked car. But right beneath that blinding rage was a darker, more complicated knot of horror. She hadn’t meant to disappear for days. She had been lying in a coma while her children slowly starved.
“Is she alive?” I asked, my voice entirely hollow.
“She is stable now. Multiple fractures and a severe concussion. She just regained consciousness a few hours ago.”
I turned away, scrubbing my hands brutally over my face. I walked down to the quiet end of the corridor and pulled out my phone. I dialed Avery Kline, my ruthless, brilliant family attorney.
“Avery. I need an emergency ex parte order for full custody,” I said the second she answered.
“Rowan? Slow down. What’s going on?”
“Delaney left the kids alone for days to go partying. She got in a wreck and ended up in a coma. Elsie is in the hospital on an IV. Micah thought his sister was dying. I want full custody, Avery. I want the locks changed. I want her stripped of every right she has right now.”
Avery’s voice shifted instantly to all-business. “Send me every medical record and the DCS intake file. I’ll have the motion on a judge’s desk by 8:00 AM.”
I hung up, feeling the metallic taste of vengeance in my mouth.
