He Ignored My Dying Call, Now the Billionaire Begs for Me Back

Gasoline stung my nose. Blood ran into my mouth whenever I tried to lift my head. The front of the car had folded around me. A piece of windshield sat deep in my shoulder, and the dashboard held both legs in place. The pain in my belly was worse. My phone lay under the passenger seat. I reached until my nails scraped the floor mat, caught the edge of the case, and dragged it closer. The screen was cracked but still lit. I tapped Julian’s name. One ring. Two. I pressed my free hand over my stomach. The baby kicked once against my palm. “Pick up,” I whispered. The ringing stopped. “What is it, Chloe?” Julian sounded irritated. Relief hit so hard that a laugh caught in my throat. “There’s been an accident. The car’s crushed. I’m on the overpass.” My breath caught. “Julian, I can’t get out.” A woman giggled near his phone. I knew that laugh. Serena. “Oh, Julian, look!” she said. “Does this little diamond collar make Percy look like a prince, or is it too much?” He was shopping for her poodle. Warm blood soaked the side of my dress. The tight ache beneath my ribs had spread across my abdomen. Internal bleeding. The pressure and sudden pain made placental abruption the likeliest cause. “Julian, listen. I’m hurt.” I tried to tell him about the baby, but Serena spoke over me. “Chloe’s always so dramatic, isn’t she?” Serena kept her stage whisper loud enough for the phone. “She knows you have the foundation gala tonight.” Black specks crossed my vision. I tightened my grip on the phone. “Please. This isn’t a trick.” Julian sighed. “That’s enough, Chloe. I don’t have time for these games. Stop trying to ruin my night.” The call ended. For a few seconds, I kept the phone against my ear. Fluid dripped from the engine onto the road below. Somewhere beyond the bent door, a truck passed. Training turned the symptoms into a checklist: clammy skin, a weak pulse, blood loss, shock. I needed an ambulance and an operating room. Julian had heard me say I was trapped and hurt. He hung up anyway. The baby moved again. A quick, frantic kick, then another. I covered the spot with my hand and waited. Nothing followed. “No. Come on.” I pushed against the dashboard until the metal cut into my palms. My legs stayed trapped. The phone slipped from my fingers and landed faceup beside the seat. Julian’s name remained on the screen above the words CALL ENDED. Five years earlier, I had left the hospital for him. I told myself the sacrifice was temporary. If I stayed patient, I could earn his love. I was done waiting. I closed my eyes with one hand still over our son. I would never ask Julian Vance for anything again.