Chapter 3 - MY DYING SON IN ROOM 402
The Horrifying Truth About Why My Wife Vanished While I Was in CaboWilliam sat on a park bench outside his office, his personal belongings crammed into a single cardboard box. He had no money, no car, no job, and no family.
But worse than the loss of his status was the growing, gnawing guilt in his chest.
He opened the folded stack of papers Sarah had left him once more. Beneath the financial transactions was a medical document he had missed in his initial panic.
William’s hands began to shake.
May 17th.
He closed his eyes, his mind racing back to that date. He had been on a private catamaran in Cabo. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of gold and violet. Khloe had been laughing, holding a glass of champagne, taking selfies of them kissing against the horizon.
He had turned his phone on "Do Not Disturb" because he "didn't want the office interrupting his creative flow."
While he was blocking out the world to enjoy his mistress, his newborn son—a baby he hadn't even bonded with yet—was hooked up to a ventilator, fighting for every single breath. Sarah had been alone in that sterile, white hospital room, listening to the agonizing beep of life support monitors, dialing his number over and over again, only to be sent straight to voicemail.
“Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system…”
He could hear his own smug greeting playing in her ears while she wept over their child.
"My god," William whispered, a sob tearing from his throat. "What have I done?"
He got up and ran. He didn't care about his designer loafers or the looks he received from pedestrians. He ran all the way to the UCSF Benioff Children’s Hospital.
The smell of antiseptic and cheap coffee hit him as he pushed through the sliding glass doors. He rushed to the reception desk, gasping for air.
"I need to see my son," he gasped. "Leo Vance. Room 402. I’m his father."
The receptionist typed into her computer, her expression neutral. She paused, her brow furrowing as she read the screen.
"I’m sorry, sir," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "There is a security flag on this patient. Only the primary guardian, Sarah Vance, is permitted access. And... the patient is no longer registered in this unit."
"What do you mean he's not registered?! Is he...? Did he...?"
"He was discharged three days ago, sir. He is healthy. But I cannot give you any further information regarding their location. I have been instructed to call security if you refuse to leave."
William felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, expecting a security guard, but found himself looking into the stern face of Dr. Robert Chen, Sarah’s pediatrician.
"William," Dr. Chen said, gesturing for him to step away from the desk. "Let's walk."
They moved into a quiet alcove near the chapel.
"Your son almost died, William," Dr. Chen said, his voice dripping with quiet fury. "His lungs weren't fully developed. Sarah spent seventy-two hours straight sitting in a plastic chair, holding his tiny hand, refusing to sleep because she was terrified he would stop breathing if she closed her eyes."
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"I didn't know," William choked out, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. "I swear, Robert, I didn't know."
"Because you chose not to know," Dr. Chen replied. "You chose a vacation over your family. Sarah didn't just leave you because of an affair. She left you because when her world was ending, you weren't even a ghost in her life. You were nothing."
