The doctor trying to save my life in the delivery room was my ex-husband—the same man who left me pregnant in the rain. What I told him made him stumble back.

gripping the metal bedrails.

His eyes narrow to dangerous slits. “In my hospital, in my delivery room, when I am the attending physician responsible for keeping you alive, I get to ask anything I damn well please.”

“No,” I say, panting as the pain crests. “You get to do your job. For once in your life, put the ego away and do your job.”

For the first continue reading …