Chapter 16
Four years later.
Olivia had to blink multiple times just to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her.
Two red lines. The nausea and headache that had plagued her for weeks finally had an explanation. She was going to be a mom.
Olivia had dreamed of having a child ever since she got married, longing for the feeling of cradling her baby in her arms. After years of hoping and praying, God had finally granted her heartfelt plea.
She gently wiped the happy tears from the corners of her eyes as her other hand drifted to her still-flat stomach. Would the baby have her husband's hair? Or would it look like her?
Clayton was the first person she wanted to tell the good news to, but he was away on an important mission. He had recently been promoted to the rank of General at only 32. Olivia was so proud of him, even though she didn't say it aloud.
She could call him, but she preferred not to announce the news over the phone. This was the kind of news she wanted to share with him in person.
She could already picture his face, the way his eyes would light up with joy, how he would pull her into a tight hug and lift her off the ground.
Clayton wasn't the epitome of a perfect husband; he wasn't always around and couldn’t always be there for her. His constant absence often made her feel lonely. However, he was always trying his best to fulfill his role as a husband, even if he didn't love her, and she greatly appreciated that.
In their four years of marriage, Clayton never forgot her birthday or their anniversary. He always found a way to make those days special, even if he had to show up at the last minute.
Her phone rang, jolting her from her thoughts. She ran from the bathroom to her bed. It could be her husband calling. She glanced at the screen, momentarily startled by the unfamiliar number flashing.
She hesitated before answering.
It was from the hospital. They needed her to come in earlier. An emergency case had just been brought in.
She moved to get dressed, but a wave of nausea hit her. She gripped the edge of the dresser, waiting for it to pass. The thought of skipping work was almost tempting, but the patients needed her. Today she had three scheduled surgeries, including a critical one on a ten-year-old with a brain tumor.
Finally, the nausea subsided enough for her to focus on getting dressed. Olivia slipped into her scrubs and tied her long hair into a bun. She didn’t bother putting on makeup; she just brushed her teeth and applied a swipe of lipstick to add color to her pallor.
Once she was done, she gathered her things, checking her bag out of habit before walking to the door.
The drive to the hospital took twenty minutes.
"Dr. Hilton!" Nurse Jessy hurried toward her in the hall.
"Thank goodness you're here. The patient was brought in an hour ago. Female, approximately twenty-seven to thirty years old. No identification was found on her. The woman who discovered her at the beach said the waves must have swept her ashore.”
Olivia accepted the file and scanned the patient's information while they walked through the hallway.
As she did so, Nurse Jessy continued to explain the situation.
"The CT scan indicates severe intracranial pressure.
There's significant bleeding in the temporal region.
We can't determine how the injury occurred—whether it was from a fall or an assault. But whatever happened, the impact was brutal.”
Olivia studied the scans and was alarmed by the swelling. Every second counted. If they didn't proceed with surgery immediately, it could be too late to save the patient.
She closed the file and handed it back to Nurse Jessy.
"Prepare the OR. I'm coming.”
—
The familiar scent of antiseptic hit her nostrils when she entered the scrub room. She washed her hands methodically. Through the glass, she could see the team preparing the unconscious patient.
Jane Doe lay still on the operating table, her face swollen and bruised, her long hair matted with dried blood.
Olivia dried her hands, letting a nurse help her into her surgical gown and gloves. The cool air of the operating room hit her face when she finally entered.
"The patient's BP is 110/70, pulse 82," the anesthesiologist reported. "She's ready."
Olivia took her position at the head of the table. The overhead lights cast a bright circle on the patient's head, where they'd already shaved and prepped the surgical site.
"Scalpel," she said calmly, without a single flinch of a facial muscle. She had performed this procedure countless times and could execute it flawlessly, even with her eyes closed.
The instrument was placed in her hand. "Beginning temporal craniotomy," she announced. "Making the initial incision now."
The blade touched skin, and everything else faded away. In this moment, nothing except the patient under her hands mattered.
Hours later, the surgery was a success. Olivia felt like a boulder had been lifted from her shoulders. The patient was stable, and the bleeding had been controlled. She had done it. She had saved another life.
Olivia should have left since the surgery was finished, but her feet stayed glued to the floor, watching the nurses clean the woman's face. The blood was starting to fade, revealing soft features underneath.
"She's pretty," one of the nurses remarked while wiping the woman's face. The nurse assisting with the operation agreed beside her.
“Actually... she kind of looks like Dr. Hilton," another nurse observed.
At first, Olivia thought they were just being silly. But something pulled her closer to the table. Something about the woman's face made Olivia's chest tight.
She reached out with shaking hands and gently moved the hair away from the woman's neck.
There it was—a birthmark. As if that weren't enough, she gently grasped the woman's left hand to reveal a small tattoo of a star on her wrist. It was the very one that had driven Mrs. Hilton nearly to the brink of madness, all because she had gotten a tattoo at fourteen.
The room started spinning. Olivia stumbled backward, nearly knocking over a tray of instruments.
"Doctor? Are you okay?" Someone touched her arm, but she couldn't answer.
She scrubbed out, then ran through the doors, down the hallway, not stopping until she reached her office.
The lock clicked behind her as she fell against the door, sliding down to the floor.
For the first time in her adult life, she cried her heart out. She wasn't crying for herself, but for the life in her belly that was about to lose a father.
The perfect life she'd built was crumbling around her. The woman her husband loved. The one he couldn't forget. The golden child her adoptive parents never stopped missing.
Caroline was alive. And now she was back.