Now I knew.
All I had to do was make a decision.
Because, based on Dr. Elmond’s words, there was a high probability I was going to be dead within the year.
I just had to decide how I wanted to leave this world.
* * *
I had Boris drop me off at Ash and Duncan’s. He said he’d stick around to drive me home and I thanked him with an absent smile.
I had been instructed by Dr. Elmond not to drive myself again for fear that I’d seize and kill someone else on the road.
He’d also instructed me to have supervision while I was around my children. I ensured him I had enough staff and family to help out, but I still hadn’t told anyone except Sasha.
How was I supposed to be a mother? I could hug my children, but I couldn’t hold Piper. I couldn’t feed her or change her or cradle her against my chest in my arms. I couldn’t let our hearts beat in unison and listen to her breathe as she slept.
I’d have to tell the family soon. One minute I could be fine and the next I could be having a seizure. I couldn’t hide this any longer.
I used my key and walked into Ash’s house.
It was late afternoon, almost evening. I took a moment and breathed in all the smells of her home. I was assaulted with memories. Our college years, when we were young and idealistic. Meeting the men we’d one day marry. The children we had and raised near one another because we were sisters, even though we weren’t related by blood.
The house was quiet—too quiet. Ash and I had seven children between the two of us and instead of the sounds of commotion, it was like a ghost town. Furthermore, Ash hadn’t yet come to greet me.
“Ash?” I called out when I got to the landing. I hoped they weren’t napping. “Where are you?”
When there was no reply, I opened the nursery door, but the crib was empty. Frowning, I continued.
“Ash?” I called again.
“In here,” came her muffled reply.
I went to her bedroom and pushed open the door. The curtains were drawn and it was dark, but the light from the hallway gave me enough illumination to see Ash on the bed, a pillow over her face. I turned on the bedside lamp.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting down on the side of the bed. “Is it Duncan? Where are the kids?”
She removed the pillow; her eyes were red from crying. “I sent the nannies and the kids to the guest house to watch a movie. I just needed—” She burst into tears and shot up, dragging me into her embrace.
“Ash,” I patted her back. “You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong.”
“You haven’t checked your phone, have you?” she accused, pulling back. “Where the hell have you been? Flynn said you’d left London hours ago.”
“Went for a drive to clear my head,” I lied. “I must’ve put my phone on silent by accident.”
“You never do anything by accident,” she murmured, peering at me. Her hands reached out to grasp mine. “It’s Ramsey.”
A coil of dread slithered through my belly. “What happened to Ramsey?”
“He was stabbed through the ribs.”
“Oh God. Is he—”
“Alive,” she whispered. “Barely. He’s in the ICU right now, heavily sedated. His lung collapsed and then filled with blood. They said it’s life and death at any moment right now. When Duncan heard, he—he flew to Dallas immediately.”
I closed my eyes.
“What’s happening, Barrett?” she whispered.
