The golden light of an October morning filled the suburban area outside of Boston. As I stood in my kitchen, listening to my nine-year-old son Ethan’s optimistic voice, I could smell the familiar aroma of sizzling pancakes.
“Mom, will Dad be at my soccer match today? Ethan moved into his seat at the breakfast table and inquired. Under the hat of his blue team suit, his eyes, which were the same deep brown as his father’s, glowed with eagerness.
I put a stack of pancakes in front of him and gently replied, “Dad has an important meeting, sweetheart, but he promised he’ll rush over the second it’s finished.”
As
Ethan replied, “Another meeting,” with a brief look of disappointment before his cheerful demeanor swiftly reappeared. “Well, I will undoubtedly score a goal for him today.”
I was able to manage our household and take care of Ethan by working three days a week as a part-time employee at a nearby accounting firm. I didn’t mind this existence at all. Actually, being able to observe my son’s development up close made me feel quite fortunate. Ethan was a cheerful, energetic young man who excelled on the soccer squad at school. He was well-liked by many people and got excellent grades. His teacher, Mrs. Miller, had commended him at the parent-teacher conference last month, stating, “Ethan is such a caring and compassionate child.” He is well-liked in his class.
My parents traveled to see their grandson play that afternoon. They were a dependable, kind presence in our lives, frequently lending a hand with Ethan, and they lived only fifteen minutes away. In contrast, Michael’s father had remarried and relocated to Florida, and his mother had died two years prior. We only exchanged Christmas cards with my father-in-law once a year.
The
Michael, he scored a goal. Leaning into his side, I replied joyfully, “It was wonderful.”
We were lounging on the sofa in the living room later that night when Michael said, “Next year, let’s go to Europe as a family. We now have considerably more stable income thanks to the promotion.
“Really? Ethan’s eyes brightened. Can we also travel to London?”
Michael murmured, ruffling his son’s hair, “Of course.” “We’ll also visit Paris and Rome.”
As I observed my son’s and husband’s joyful expressions, a comforting feeling filled my heart. We seemed like the ideal family to me. I was unaware that a tiny, sneaky shadow was already starting to cast itself across our tranquil days.
After returning from school a few days later, Ethan collapsed on the sofa in the living room. “My head feels lightheaded again, Mom.”
“Are you alright? I put my palm on his forehead out of concern. No fever was present.
He smiled weakly and added, “Yeah, but I just feel a little lightheaded.”
In as many weeks, this was the third time. I had initially written it off as soccer practice dehydration, but as the incidents became more frequent, a chilly knot of fear started to grow inside of me. I talked to Michael about it that night.
I said, “Just to be safe, I think we should have him tested at the hospital.”
Michael looked serious as he nodded. “You’re correct. Let’s have him evaluated in detail. A good hospital is one I know. Boston General Hospital has a top-notch pediatrician.
The three of us went to Boston General the next week. A nice middle-aged man with a soft smile, Dr. Johnson was the attending physician. “I advise a two-night, three-day hospital stay for thorough testing just to be safe,” he said. To determine the cause, we’ll run an EEG, an MRI, and a comprehensive battery of blood tests.
“A stay in the hospital? Ethan appeared nervous.
Michael threw a comforting arm around his son’s shoulder and assured him that everything will be alright. “Mom will be with you the entire time, and Dad will come visit you every day.”
Ethan nodded boldly as I gave him a soft grin. “All right. I hope to recover quickly.
As the chilly autumn air touched our skin on Monday morning, we made our way to Boston General. My heart constricted when I saw my son’s courageous little figure enter the enormous edifice. Ethan insisted on carrying his little suitcase himself. With vibrant animal paintings on the walls, the pediatric unit was more airy than I had anticipated. Ethan was given a cozy private room with a big window looking out over a local park with trees burning in the fall’s reds and yellows.
As I arranged our possessions, I said in the most upbeat tone I could manage, “This looks like it’ll be comfortable.” Michael nodded contentedly after surveying the entire space.
Dr. Johnson and a nurse entered. “Hi, Ethan. Mary, who will be your nurse, is here.
Mary, a serene woman with lovely eyes, lowered herself to Ethan’s eye level. “Don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it. I’m at the nurses’ station all the time.
Dr. Johnson provided the testing schedule. We’ll perform blood tests and an EEG today. The MRI is scheduled for tomorrow. In three days, we will present you with all of the findings.
Will it be painful? Ethan’s voice was small as he asked.
Mary said politely, “The blood test will hurt a little, but it will be over in a flash.” ” The EEG is completely painless. We just applied tiny stickers to your head.
The testing on the first day went without a hitch. To my relief, Ethan found a new buddy, a boy called Jason, from the adjacent room when he spent time in the hospital playroom in the afternoon. He smiled and remarked, “Mom, I have to admit, the hospital is kind of fun.”
After work in the evening, Michael hurried over. He sat at his son’s bedside, still in his suit and without a hint of weariness. “How did my courageous boy fare today?”
Ethan replied with pride, “I was completely fine, Dad.”
Michael stroked his son’s head and murmured, “That’s my son.” “So that we can have dinner together, I’ll finish early tomorrow.”
The second day also went smoothly without any incidents. Michael gave me a call in the evening. “Kate, I’m so sorry…” I got a horrible vibe from the tone of his voice right away.
“What is it?”
“There was only last-minute business travel. Tonight, I have to travel to New York.
“What? I spoke up without giving it any thought. However, we will receive Ethan’s test results tomorrow!”
“I apologize, but I have to leave immediately since it’s a big contract. I should arrive in time to hear the findings because I swear I’ll be back in the afternoon.
I gave a long sigh. I recognized the significance of his work. He was putting in a lot of effort for our family. “All right,” I murmured, feeling a sharp sting of disappointment. “I’ll tell Ethan about it.”
Ethan seemed upset, but he quickly grasped why his father couldn’t attend. “Dad is occupied.” It is unavoidable.
I stayed until Ethan went to sleep that night. I felt a deep sense of isolation as I gazed at the city lights and listened to his steady breathing.
We conducted the last blood test on the morning of the third day. When Mary said, “That’s everything done,” Ethan grinned broadly. “Hooray! Tomorrow, I can go home, right?”
Mary said softly, “That’s correct, if there are no issues with the test results.” But for a brief time, I thought I saw a complicated, conflicted emotion flicker in her eyes before she swiftly went back to her typical kind face. I wrote it off as my own nervousness.
It was about 2:00 pm when Dr. Johnson came to see. He stated that the results would be available by this evening. “Mrs. Bennett, since you have some time before then, how about you spend a little time at home? We’ll look after Ethan well.
It was true that I had hardly slept, but I hesitated. “All well, then. I’ll return this evening. I kissed Ethan’s face and added, “Dad should be back too.”
I waited for a call from Michael at home as dusk drew near, but my phone was silent. By 11:00 p.m., I was overcome with a sense of dread. I gripped my phone while I sat on the couch and kept checking it. No texts, no calls. Nothing. Tired, I fell asleep.
The high-pitched sound of my phone startled me awake at 2:15 a.m. The hospital was the location. My heart started beating frantically.
“Hey? With a quivering voice, I replied.
“Is Mrs. Bennett here? It was Mary, but she didn’t sound as composed as usual. Her voice was hardly a whisper, and it was obvious that she was agitated. Please visit the medical facility. By themselves. Don’t call your husband either.
“What? What are you saying? My hands started to tremble. “Whatever became of Ethan?”
She pleaded in a terrified voice, “He’s fine right now, but please hurry.” “Enter through the back door. I’ll be here waiting.
The call was cut off. My thoughts were racing. Had things suddenly gotten worse for Ethan? But why don’t I give my hubby a call? I had no time to reflect. The twenty-minute drive took only fifteen minutes after I put on my clothes and got behind the wheel, each traffic light turning green as though it were hurrying me to some horrible end.
With a pale face and puffy, red eyes, Mary waited in the shadows of the hospital’s rear entrance. “Mary, what the devil is going on?”
She took my arm, drew me inside, and said, “Shh, be quiet.” “There isn’t time to elaborate.”
We went to the third floor via elevator. I spotted them when the doors opened. policemen. At least four of them stood solemnly in the pediatric unit hallway, some dressed in military and others in casual attire. My feet went cold on the ground.
“What’s going on? With a trembling voice, I whispered.
Silently, an elderly investigator with gray hair and keen, perceptive eyes came up. “Mrs. I’m Detective Wilson from the Boston Police, Bennett. Your kid is secure. Don’t be surprised by what I’m going to show you, though. And don’t make any noise at all.
He guided me to the tiny observation window in the door at the entrance of Ethan’s room. “Take a close look inside,” he said.
My heart was racing so hard that it seemed to be jumping out of my chest. Ethan was soundly asleep in his bed in the dimly lit room. However, there was a person standing next to him. She was facing away from me, wearing a white lab coat. She had a syringe in her hand and was reaching for Ethan’s IV bag. With caution, she put the needle into the injection port of the bag.
Then the woman turned a little, and my body started to lose blood. My throat froze with a silent cry. That was a face I knew. Monica Chen, M.D. At his business party three months prior, Michael had introduced the dapper, attractive doctor as a “college friend.”
What brought her here? For what reason was she giving my son an IV injection in the middle of the night? My bewilderment immediately gave way to unmitigated fear. She intended to hurt my son.
The waiting officers advanced in unison as Detective Wilson made a hand signal. They hurried into the room as the door was thrown open. “Remain motionless! Raise your hands!”
Monica dropped the syringe, and its clear liquid fractured as it fell to the floor. Her expression was one of gloomy resignation rather than surprise as she gently raised her hands. Tears were running down her face, and her eyes were empty as she was tied.
“Ethan! Mary stopped me as I tried to run to my son.
“Everything is OK. She did not insert anything into the IV. Mary’s voice was shaking as she continued, “I saw and called the police immediately.”
Detective Wilson gave an officer instructions to secure the IV bag as evidence and to take a sample of the liquid from the floor. Monica walked past me, and we looked at each other as she was escorted away. I saw a deep, genuine sadness in hers instead of hate or wrath.
“Why? My voice was a weak whisper as I asked. “Why, my son?”
As she was led away, she merely shook her head without responding.
Detective Wilson opened a hefty file in a sterile interrogation room at the Boston Police Station around 4:00 in the morning. “Mrs., I’m going to tell you something really painful, Bennett,” he whispered softly. “However, you are entitled to know everything.”
My entire body felt like a block of ice as I nodded.
“Dr. For the past three years, Monica Chen and your husband, Michael Bennett, have been having an affair.
The words struck me like a blow to the body. I was having trouble breathing. “No, that isn’t possible.”
Detective Wilson displayed pictures of Michael and Monica cuddling in a hotel lobby and at a restaurant. Unquestionable proof. I relived three years of business travel, late nights, and weekend phone conversations, now tainted by treachery.
Mary came in as the door opened. “Mary,” I uttered in a hoarse voice. “How did you see it?”
Mary took a big breath and sat down. “I realized there was a problem when I saw the prescription order. Dr. Chen ordered a large dosage of an antibiotic based on penicillin, despite Ethan’s chart noting a severe penicillin allergy.
Detective Wilson placed a copy of the chart on the table. Ethan experienced a serious adverse reaction to penicillin when he was six months old. You need to keep in mind.
I recalled how terrified I had been that night, hurrying him to the ER as he was having trouble breathing and covered in hives.
Mary’s voice faltered as she said, “Ethan would have suffered anaphylactic shock if this had been given. He would have left in a matter of minutes.
A sob escaped my lips as I covered my face. They had almost taken my son away from me.
Was Michael aware of it? I looked up and asked. Concerning Ethan’s allergy? “
Detective Wilson gave a solemn nod. Indeed. Michael actually gave Monica that comprehensive medical information. He showed me copies of their correspondence. Michael’s message: Ethan is extremely allergic to penicillin. Don’t use it. Monica’s response a few days later was, “But this time, we’ll use it.” We may pretend it was a medical mishap. Michael’s last words were frightening: “I get it.” I have faith in you.
I felt sick to my stomach. My spouse. The man who mentioned going to Europe with his family was my spouse. He had been considering taking the life of his own son.
Detective Wilson attested that his work trip was a fabrication. “He was at Monica’s apartment tonight, creating his ideal alibi while sipping wine on the sofa.”
My hands trembled as I pulled out my phone. Can I give him a call?”
The detective said, “Go ahead.” “However, switch it to speaker.”
I hit the number for Michael. His voice sounded wonderfully drowsy as he responded. “What’s wrong at this hour, Kate?”
“Where are you? Quietly, I inquired.
“In a New York hotel.” Didn’t I tell you that?”
I exclaimed, my voice breaking, “Liar.” “All of it was false, wasn’t it?”
The other end of the line was silent for a long time. Michael was about to stutter, “Kate, what…,” when the door to the interrogation room opened. Two officers led an unkempt Michael in handcuffs. As our gazes locked, his face lost its color.
“This is a misunderstanding, Kate,” he said. “Allow me to explain.”
“A miscommunication? I let out a laugh that sounded more like a scream. You attempted to kill our son! Apps for tracking sleep
“I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Don’t tell me lies! I yelled. “I now understand everything! I now fully comprehend your relationship with Monica! “I now understand everything! Your liaison with Monica!” Everything!”
With all pretense gone, Michael fell into a chair. The proof was indisputable.
Monica confessed in another interrogation room. The recording was played by Detective Wilson. Michael’s voice could be heard saying, “I had reached my limit.” ” I couldn’t start a new life while Ethan was around. I desired to wed Monica.
Monica’s shaky voice continued, “The hospital stay was all planned.”” There was no need for the examinations. All we needed was a reason to admit him to the hospital so I could take care of him.
Mary went on to provide more testimony. “I informed the hospital director right away after seeing the drug order. However, he knew and advised me, “Don’t do anything unnecessary.”
Later on, it was found that Michael had given the director a sizable quantity of money with the intention of portraying Ethan’s death as a terrible medical accident.
With tears in her eyes, Mary uttered, “I couldn’t do it.” “I couldn’t allow a child to die. I therefore went straight to the police.
I understood, “That’s why you only got in touch with me.” “Because you believed Michael was complicit.”
Detective Wilson said, “Yes.” He got up and turned to face Michael, saying, “We had to arrest them in the act.” “You are officially under arrest for conspiracy to commit attempted murder, Michael Bennett.”
Michael remained silent. He simply gazed at the ground. The face of the man I once loved—who is now a total stranger—came into view.
“Why? At last, I inquired. Why, Ethan? “Ethan is your own son.”
Michael’s face came up slowly. There was no remorse or shame in his gaze. Just a cold nothingness. “I was sick of being a dad,” he said. “I desired freedom.” That’s all.
The last, deadly blow to my heart was delivered by those words. That’s when my love for Michael died, dead and buried.
Ethan was moved to a different hospital the following day. Mary’s suspicion that stress was the cause of her dizziness was validated by the new doctor. My son was in good physical condition. In the examination room, I broke out in tears of relief.
Six months later, the trial took place. Michael was sentenced to fifteen years in prison. Monica was given twelve years and had her medical license permanently revoked. The hospital made a sizable compensation payment, and the director of Boston General was forced to leave. As a whistleblower who was protected, Mary rose to prominence as a chief nurse at another institution and became a representation of moral medicine.
By Thanksgiving Day of the next year, Ethan and I had moved into a new, smaller apartment that felt like our own, with plenty of natural light. Mary was invited to supper by me.
Ethan, who is now 10 years old and appears more mature, remarked, “Thank you, Mary,” while examining the food on the table. “I wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t helped me.”
Mary gave a soft smile. “I only took the proper action.”
I shook my head, saying, “No.” My son’s life was saved by you. You guarded him as though he were a member of your own family. We sincerely appreciate it.
Ethan questioned, “What is family?” as we were eating. According to my friends, it’s folks who are related by blood.
I paused to reflect. Blood is not the issue. Families are made up of people who genuinely look out for and care for one another.
Ethan smiled brightly and unflinchingly and added, “Then Mary is part of our family, too.”
Mary’s eyes filled with tears. “I would be honored to be a member of your family if you will have me.”
Every month, I received letters from Michael, but I threw them all away without opening them. I would let Ethan choose his father on his own when he was mature enough to do so. Right now, we just wanted to keep going.
Snow started to gently fall on Boston outside the window. Despite the hard winters, spring always arrives. At last, we were prepared for a new season. The three of us had discovered that true family is made of ties created by the fires of love, bravery, and steadfast allegiance rather than by blood or legal ties. And we would have the strength to conquer anything because of those ties.
