Scarlett had Sophie cradled in one arm, a glass of whiskey in the other, tilting the rim toward the baby's tiny mouth.

"Come on, sweetie! Have a taste of the good stuff!"

"Gotta start 'em young!"

Garrett's buddies were cheering and hollering around them, egging her on.

The amber liquid sloshed over the rim and dripped into my daughter's crying mouth. The burn hit instantly -- Sophie's wail turned into a terrified, ragged shriek, her little limbs thrashing inside the swaddle.

Scarlett just laughed, clamping the baby tighter with her arm as her wrist tipped the glass further down.

"What are you doing?!"

I slapped her hand away with everything I had.

The glass flew from her grip and shattered on the floor.

I snatched Sophie into my arms. She was choking and gagging against my chest.

"Shh, baby, Mommy's here..."

I patted her back gently. My fingers came away damp and cold -- Scarlett had squeezed her so hard the diaper had burst.

Garrett walked in right behind me, just in time to see me wrench the baby from Scarlett's arms, sending her stumbling backward onto the floor.

His first instinct was to rush to Scarlett. He grabbed her arm, pulling her up, while shouting at me:

"Vivian, what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you attacking Scarlett?"

He didn't even glance at our daughter, who was crying so hard she could barely breathe.

I held Sophie tight, my eyes like ice.

"Garrett, why don't you ask her what she was doing?"

"Feeding hard liquor to a three-month-old baby -- you could have killed her!"

Garrett froze. His gaze swept over the puddle of whiskey on the floor, and his expression stiffened for a moment.

But Scarlett was already rubbing her arm, her face a picture of wounded innocence.

"Vivian, come on. My grandpa used to put whiskey on our gums when we were teething. It's not a big deal."

"Toughens them up! I was just giving my little niece some grit!"

I was shaking with rage. I pulled out my phone. "Hello, 911? I need to report--"

Smack.

The phone was ripped from my hand and flung to the floor. Garrett was breathing hard, his chest heaving.

"You're really gonna call the cops over this? On a day like today, you want to ruin it for everyone?"

"Okay, she shouldn't have done it that way, but she wasn't trying to hurt anyone. Do you really have to blow everything out of proportion?"

I stared at him like I was looking at a stranger.

"Garrett..." My voice sounded hollow, even to me.

"You went to medical school. You know exactly what alcohol does to an infant."

"This is your daughter."

"What's going on here?" Garrett’s parents elbowed through the gawking crowd, their faces thunderous.

"A perfectly good celebration, and you're causing a scene. Embarrassing!"

I pointed at the shattered glass on the floor. "Scarlett fed Sophie hard liquor. I'm calling the police."

"Liquor?" Garrett’s father Donald paused, then let out a dismissive snort.

"That's what this is about? When Garrett was a baby, his grandfather used to dip his finger in bourbon and let him lick it. Never hurt him one bit!"

Garrett’s mother Patricia jabbed a finger in my face.

"She's fine! What's the big deal? A little whiskey isn't going to kill her!"

"Scarlett is a good girl -- we've known her her whole life. Don't you dare blame her!"

I looked at Garrett's silence, at his parents twisting everything inside out, at Scarlett standing off to the side, shooting me a smug little smile.

I felt nothing but utter disgust.

I took a deep breath, turned, and walked toward the door.

Garrett called after me. "Where are you going?"

"The hospital." I didn't look back. "If anything is wrong with her, Scarlett, I swear to God, this isn't over."

Thank God -- Sophie had barely ingested any whiskey. Most of it was vomited up as she cried. But she was still rattled, fussy and limp from the shock.

Ethan put down his stethoscope and exhaled.

"What happened? Isn't today supposed to be Sophie's party?"

When I didn't answer, he let it go. Instead, he took a small pink box from his desk and handed it to me.

"I've got a major surgery today -- couldn't make it to the party."

His voice was warm. "This is a gift for Sophie."

When I stayed in the observation room with my baby, Garrett texted: "How's the kid? Mom and Dad say stop overreacting -- running to the ER over nothing."

I didn't reply. I turned off my phone.

At one in the morning, I carried Sophie through the front door of our house.

There, standing in the middle of my living room, was Scarlett -- wearing my favorite silk robe.

She spotted me and let out a theatrical little "Oh!"

"You're back! I didn't bring any clothes, so Garrett told me to borrow something of yours. You don't mind, do you?"

"Where's Garrett?"

I pretended not to see the robe strap she'd deliberately let slip off her shoulder.

Scarlett pouted, then picked up my face towel and casually used it to wipe her feet, moving around the place like she owned it.

"He's in the study, on the phone with his dad. You look tired, Vivian -- give me the baby. I can help you take care of her from now on."

I stepped aside, avoiding her outstretched hand. "That won't be necessary."

Garrett came out of the study just in time to see me pull away from her. His expression darkened.

"What did the doctor say?"

I laid Sophie on the couch and checked her tiny hands and feet.

"She's stressed. Some kind of acute stress response. They said to keep an eye on her."

Garrett visibly relaxed.

"See? I told you she'd be fine. You had to go make a whole production out of it--"

I ignored him. I looked around the room. "Where's Mrs. Bennet?"

She is the professional nanny I hired to look after Sophie.

Garrett hesitated. "I let her go."

"Scarlett loves kids. I figured she could help out around here -- someone we know, instead of paying a stranger."

Scarlett tightened the robe around herself and slinked over, hips swaying.

"Don't worry, Vivian. I'm great with kids -- always have been. You two just focus on work and leave everything to me."

Seeing my stony expression, she let out a little laugh.

"Oh right, right -- today was my fault. Let me make it up to you!"

She grabbed the half-empty bottle of red wine off the coffee table and made as if to down it in one go.

Garrett snatched it away. "Come on, can you even handle that?"

His tone was annoyed, but the tenderness on his face was unmistakable.

Watching their little act, I picked up my daughter and headed for the door.

It took Garrett a moment to react before he stepped in front of me.

"Where are you going in the middle of the night? Can you stop being so dramatic?"

"Dramatic?" I laughed.

"Your 'buddy' is wearing my nightgown, using my towel, and about to get drunk before watching my daughter."

"Garrett, who exactly is being dramatic here?"

Scarlett flipped her hair. "Wow, jealous much? I was just being practical. Garrett -- your wife clearly can't stand me. Maybe I should just go."

"Enough!" Garrett raked his fingers through his hair.

"Vivian, she's already been called out, she said sorry -- can we just drop it?"

He glanced at the baby in my arms, his voice softening. "Don't put Sophie through this."

I said nothing. Sophie did still have a low-grade fever. The night air was cold. I couldn't do that to her.

"I want to see Mrs. Bennet here tomorrow morning!"

"Fine, fine! You got it."

I took Sophie to the guest room. Mrs. Bennet's baby supplies were still scattered around.

Garrett and Scarlett stayed up in the living room, talking and laughing until well past midnight. Even when Sophie woke up crying, he never once came to check.

At dawn, I dragged myself out of bed for the fourth time to take Sophie's temperature.

That's when I heard giggling coming from the master bedroom. "Oh man, look how dumb you looked back then!"

They were huddled together, heads touching, a lipstick in hand, drawing all over something.

That something was the pregnancy scrapbook I'd made by hand.

Garrett had once pointed to the first page, whispering in my ear: "When the baby grows up, we'll tell her the love story of Mommy and Daddy."

Now, on that same page, my face in our wedding photo had been smeared with red lipstick. Someone had drawn two big X's over my eyes.

And on Sophie's first ultrasound picture, scrawled in red: "Waste of space."

"What are you two doing?"

Scarlett jumped. The lipstick dragged a jagged red line across the photo.

"Oh! You're up? I thought the scrapbook was cute, so I... got creative."

She saw my face and shrugged. "Sorry? Here, let me wipe it off."

She rubbed at it with her palm, smearing the page into a mess of bright crimson.

"Give it back!"

I reached for it. She jerked away, and the sharp edge of the paper sliced a thin cut across her cheek.

"Vivian, what the hell?!"

Garrett lunged forward and shoved me hard.

I stumbled backward. My back slammed into the vanity. The mirror shattered, glass raining down around me.

He didn't look at me. He bent over Scarlett, cradling her, his voice tight with worry.

"Scarlett, are you okay?"

Scarlett touched her cheek and winced. "Damn, Vivian, you've got some grip..."

Garrett scooped her up in his arms. She squealed, then nestled her face into the curve of his neck.

"I'm taking Scarlett to the hospital. Vivian -- you went way too far this time."

After he left, I finally felt the wetness in my palm. I looked down. A long, deep gash ran across my hand between thumb and forefinger, the flesh gaping open.

Blood ran freely. I felt nothing. Just a dull, hollow ache.

I called Mrs. Bennet and told her I needed to go to the hospital, asking her to please get there within five minutes.

When Ethan saw me standing in his office doorway, blood dripping from my hand, his face went white.

When he got a closer look at the wound -- deep enough to show bone -- his expression turned grim.

The needle pulled through torn flesh. He cleaned and stitched in silence. Only after my hand was carefully wrapped in gauze did he speak, anger simmering beneath every word.

"This cut is deep. Do you have any idea -- your hands are everything! You're a surgeon!"

"Where's Garrett? How could he let you come here alone?"

Before I could answer, a commotion erupted in the hallway.

"Doctor! Doctor! Emergency -- hurry!"

Garrett burst through the doors carrying Scarlett, barking at other patients to get out of his way. He set her down on a gurney with exaggerated care.

Scarlett punched him lightly in the chest, playing it up.

"Relax, Garrett. Remember that bar fight we got into? Way worse than this. I'm fine -- just... if I end up with a scar, you better not ditch me."

Garrett caught her fist against his chest, his eyes brimming with tenderness.

"As long as I'm here, I won't let anything happen to your face."

"And if there is a scar... I'll marry you."

His gaze was so intense that Scarlett let out a soft little moan and buried her face in his neck.

When Garrett looked up, scanning the ER for staff, his voice took on the tone of a man accustomed to giving orders.

"I'm Garrett Monroe -- my company supplies half the equipment in this building."

"Get me every doctor available for a consult. Now. Or I'm pulling every piece of equipment we put in this place."

The ER dissolved into chaos. Ethan stood, crossed the room, and shut the door.

He looked at me for a long moment.

"When I heard about what happened at the celebration... I didn't want to believe it."

"How did you two end up like this?"

Good question. I'd been wondering the same thing.

Garrett and I met in college. Same program, same department.

He was hooked the moment he saw me.

He chased me for three years before I finally gave in.

Later, when he was pushed out of his position at a hospital, he quit in a rage. I emptied my savings so we could open Monroe Medical together.

To keep the practice afloat, I worked myself to the bone -- earning certifications, leading research projects, building a client base. I became Chief Surgeon before thirty, established myself as one of the top names in cosmetic surgery, and assembled a nationally ranked surgical team.

Monroe Medical went public. It became the premier cosmetic surgery clinic in the region.

Everyone said Garrett Monroe was a lucky man. I thought I was the lucky one too.

Then, three months ago, Scarlett walked back into Garrett's life from overseas.

And his eyes stopped finding me.

He gave all his time to Scarlett -- road trips, late-night sports bars, the works. On the day I went into labor, he was at a bar getting arrested for punching someone who'd picked a fight with her.

"Ethan." My voice was raw from a sleepless night.

"If I leave... would you come with me?"

He paused, then smiled.

"If it weren't for you, I never would have come here in the first place."

"Dr. Hale! We're coming with you!"

The door flew open and a crowd of doctors squeezed into the room, every one of them looking at me with fierce loyalty.

"If it weren't for you, none of us would be where we are. Wherever you go, we go!"

"I've been fed up with that ungrateful bastard for ages. If it weren't for you, I'd have left a long time ago."

I looked at their familiar faces, one after another, and my eyes stung.

"Alright. We leave together."

Ethan helped me lie down. "Get some rest. We'll handle things."

It felt like a weight I'd been carrying for years had finally been lifted. I slept deeply, soundly -- until the phone woke me.

"Dr. Hale -- thank God you picked up! Your in-laws threw me out!"

It was Mrs. Bennet, her voice frantic. "They tossed all my things out. I can't get through the door. The baby's been crying nonstop."

I raced back. Mrs. Bennet was pacing outside the locked door.

I was reaching for my key when I heard my father-in-law's rough voice bellowing from inside.

"Crying! Crying! All she does is cry -- cursed little brat!"

"Might as well let her starve. Save us a meal."

Patricia was inside, slamming pots and pans.

"The only good thing about her was that she had no family to cause us problems. And what do we get? Just a girl—she cannot even inherit our family fortune."

"Donald, we've gotten what we needed from her. When are you going to make him divorce her?"

"Scarlett's pregnant now!"

"The ultrasound says it's a boy. Hurry up and get rid of that woman before her bad luck rubs off."

The next second, I kicked the door open.

"Since you all hate us so much -- fine. Divorce."

"And I'm taking my daughter."