Too Late Mr. Sterling

Chapter 7

Elowen's POV

I didn't cry when they told me that Maisie was gone. I had already screamed until my throat hurt, and I had begged the doctors to save her while I held her in my arms and felt her body slowly grow cold. I had watched them try everything they could, but nothing changed the truth. My little girl was gone, and no amount of begging could bring her back.

I held Maisie's hand long after she stopped breathing, waiting for her fingers to move. I kept whispering her name, hoping she would open her eyes and give me that little smile I knew so well. She didn't. My mind refused to accept what had happened because Maisie was my baby, my little girl, and she was not supposed to leave me like this.

I knew she was sick. I knew her condition was serious, but it wasn't supposed to happen this soon. She still had time. All she needed was proper medical care when the seizure started, something as simple as getting her to the hospital quickly and keeping her breathing stable until the doctors could treat her.

Instead, she died because we never made it to the hospital.

She died because her own father decided that a scraped knee and a few tears from another girl were more important than his sick daughter.

He chose Ottilie.

Maisie had been struggling to breathe in my arms. Her lips had started turning blue while I begged Alistair to keep driving, but he had turned the car around because Ottilie had fallen and hurt herself. When I begged him to take Maisie to the hospital first, he looked at me as if I were being unreasonable.

"She's faking it," Alistair had said.

Those were the last words he said to us before he told me to get out of the car.

I kept hearing those words in my head as I sat outside the treatment room and waited for the doctors to finish. Deep down, I already knew it was too late. I had known the moment Maisie's body became still in my arms, but I had refused to accept it because accepting it meant accepting that my daughter was really gone.

After what felt like hours, the door finally opened, and Dr. Edmund Hale stepped outside. He had been one of the doctors treating Maisie since her diagnosis, so he knew exactly how much she meant to me. He looked at me for several seconds without saying anything, and I could see the sadness in his eyes before he finally walked over and sat beside me.

"I'm sorry, Elowen," he said quietly. "We lost her."

"I know," I whispered. My voice sounded strange because my throat was raw from crying and screaming. "I knew when she stopped moving."

Dr. Hale lowered his eyes for a moment before speaking again. "There is something you need to understand. Her leukemia did not directly cause the seizure that killed her. She was already very weak, and the emotional stress made her condition worse. The seizure itself could have been managed if she had reached the hospital in time."

My chest tightened as I stared at him. "She heard him, didn't she? She heard Alistair tell her she was a mistake."

Dr. Hale sighed and nodded slowly. "Yes. A child in her condition could react badly to that kind of emotional shock. Her body was already under a lot of stress, and the situation pushed her too far. But the seizure was treatable. If she had arrived sooner, we could have stabilised her breathing and controlled it."

"So she didn't have to die," I whispered.

Dr. Hale didn't answer immediately, but he didn't have to. His silence told me everything I needed to know.

I turned my face away as tears filled my eyes again. Maisie didn't have to die. She could have survived if we had reached the hospital on time. She could have had more birthdays, more Christmas mornings, more days running around the house in that yellow dress she loved so much.

She could have grown up.

She could have gone to university, fallen in love, found a career she enjoyed, and built a life of her own. I could have watched her become the woman I always dreamed she would be. I could have been there for her first heartbreak, her graduation, her wedding, and every other moment I had imagined since the day she was born.

But I would never see any of it now.

Alistair had taken all of that from me.

The worst part was knowing that Maisie had died believing her father didn't love her. She had heard him call her a mistake, and those words had stayed with her until the end. My little girl had spent her final moments wondering why her own father didn't choose her.

I covered my face with both hands as another wave of grief hit me. I wanted to scream, but I had no strength left. My whole body felt empty, as if losing Maisie had taken something from me that could never be replaced.

"This is my fault," I whispered.

Dr. Hale looked at me. "Elowen, this isn't your fault."

"I should have left him sooner," I said, shaking my head as tears rolled down my face. "I should have taken her away from him. I kept telling myself that she needed her father, so I stayed. I kept hoping Alistair would eventually realise how much she needed him, but I was wrong."

I looked down at my hands and remembered how tightly Maisie had held them whenever she was frightened. I remembered the way she used to run to me whenever she came home from school, the way she called me Mommy, and the way she always wanted me beside her whenever she was sick.

"I thought I was protecting her by keeping her close to her father," I said through my tears. "But I wasn't protecting her. I was only giving him more chances to hurt her."

Dr. Hale reached for my shoulder, but I barely felt his hand. The pain in my chest was so strong that it almost felt like I couldn't breathe. I had spent years putting Alistair and Maisie's needs before my own, convincing myself that our broken marriage was worth enduring because my daughter needed a family.

Now Maisie was gone.

There was nothing left for me to protect.

For a long time, I sat there without speaking. Eventually, my tears slowed, and I wiped my face with the back of my hand before forcing myself to sit up straight. My body was exhausted, my heart was shattered, and I knew I would probably never be the same again, but something inside me had finally become clear.

I was done begging Alistair to love us.

I was done waiting for him to choose me.

I was done making excuses for him.

For years, I had convinced myself that I couldn't leave because of Maisie. I had stayed because I believed she needed her father, even when he barely acted like one. I had endured his coldness, his neglect, and the humiliation of being treated like I was nothing because I thought keeping our family together was what was best for her.

But Maisie was gone now.

And for the first time in years, there was nothing holding me to Alistair Sterling.

I slowly stood up and looked toward the closed treatment-room door where my daughter had taken her last breath.

"I won't stay anymore," I whispered.

My voice was weak, but for the first time, I meant every word.

I was leaving Alistair Sterling.

And this time, nothing could make me stay.