Chapter 219

EVE

I collapsed into the chair, my entire body shaking as Dr. Thompson's words hit me. Leukemia. My baby had cancer. The word ripped through me.

"Eve?" Dr. Thompson sounded miles away. "Should I get you anything?"

I couldn't answer. Tears poured down my face while Noah slept against my chest, innocent to the war his tiny body now faced. My crying turned violent, triggering sharp pain in my stomach - the damn gastritis always showed up at the worst times.

Noah woke, sensing something wrong. His screams joined mine, his little face red with confusion.

"She did this," I choked out between sobs, gripping my cramping stomach. "Julie actually cursed my baby and now he's—" The words died in my throat.

Summer tried taking Noah. I snatched him back.

"Don't touch him!"

"Ms. Carter, you need—"

"Back off!" Pain shot through my abdomen again.

Dr. Thompson handed me water and pills. "Eve, get it together. This won't help Noah."

I downed the medication, fighting for control. When my phone rang, I grabbed it desperately.

"Sean—" My voice broke.

"What's wrong?" His tone switched instantly from business to alarm.

"Noah... hospital... you need to come now." Words tumbled between sobs.

"Which hospital?"

"Manhattan Memorial. They think... God, Sean, I'm going to destroy Julie for this. She told me he was dying right before the doctor confirmed—"

"Don't move. I'm coming." The line went dead.

The next hours blurred. Tests. Specialists. Questions. I ended up curled on a hallway bench outside pediatric oncology, tears streaming silently. Noah had finally crashed in the hospital crib after hours of screaming through examinations.

"Eve."

I looked up. Sean rushed toward me, suit wrinkled, tie loose. No trace of the controlled CEO remained - just raw fear in his eyes.

"Tell me what happened." He dropped to his knees before me, gripping my hands.

I completely lost it. "Why our baby, Sean? Why Noah? Acute lymphoblastic leukemia—that's what they're saying. Why is this happening to us?"

Sean pulled me against him. I felt his heart hammering.

"Can they fix this?" His voice stayed steady, but his body told another story. "Everything. Tell me everything."

"More tests coming, but Dr. Thompson says it's... treatable. But Sean, he's just a baby. How can he fight cancer?"

Sean stroked my hair, gentle despite the rage building in his eyes. "He has us. We'll fight harder."

The hematologist appeared - Dr. Wallace. Sean stood, immediately taking control while I gathered Noah into my arms.

"Your son's preliminary tests strongly indicate acute lymphoblastic leukemia," Dr. Wallace explained. "We need to start treatment immediately."

Sean nodded, jaw tight. "Options?"

I half-listened, holding Noah while replaying Julie's words in my head. Her smirk. Her certainty. The hatred burning inside me felt justified.

"Eve?" Sean's voice pulled me back. "Summer's still here. You haven't eaten all night."

I blinked, noticing Summer hovering nearby. "Not hungry."

Sean's expression hardened. "Summer, my wife's stomach is acting up again. Go downstairs and bring her some hot soup."

"I don't think they have—" Summer started.

"Then find something else," Sean snapped, voice dropping to ice. "Water. Anything warm. Now."

Summer practically ran off.

I sagged against Sean's shoulder, exhausted. "They want to start treatment tomorrow. Bone marrow tests first."

Sean nodded, taking Noah from my arms. His large hands held our son with surprising tenderness. "Let's talk to Wallace together."

In the consultation room, Dr. Wallace outlined three treatment options while Sean fired questions I couldn't form through my grief.

"Standard chemotherapy might wreck an infant his age," Dr. Wallace said. "Molecular targeted therapy shows promise but carries major risks. Bone marrow transplant offers the best shot if we find a matching donor."

"What's the issue with finding donors?" Sean asked.

"Noah has RH negative blood type. Pretty rare. Finding a perfect bone marrow match in the national registry won't be easy."

I frowned. "Neither of us has that blood type. No one in our families does."

Sean's face remained unreadable. "Check the national registry first. Money isn't an issue."

Walking back to Noah's room, something nagged at me. "Sean, should we keep using those nannies and consultants at Skyline?"

He glanced down. "Why?"

"Noah getting acute leukemia makes zero sense," I insisted. "Our families have no history going back three generations. This isn't Grace's heart condition - that was a small defect with possible genetic links."

Sean's eyes narrowed. "You might be onto something. But we can't fire them yet. If we're investigating, we need them close."

The drive home that night was silent. Noah stayed hospitalized for monitoring while treatment plans developed. I stared out the window, crying silently.

"I'm sorry," I finally whispered. "I should be strong right now, but... I can't fake it. I'm falling apart."

Sean grabbed my hand. "It's not weakness. This blindsided both of us. I'm barely hanging on myself."

I turned, shocked. Sean never admitted vulnerability—not even to me.

Back at Skyline, the penthouse felt wrong without Noah's sounds. I collapsed onto our bed, crushed by what we faced.

"What if they don't find matching bone marrow?" My voice shook with my deepest fear.

Sean sat beside me. "Remember what we've survived? My time in prison. Our reunion. All those storms that should've destroyed us."

He took my face between his hands, eyes burning into mine. "Eve, I swear this to you: I will find suitable bone marrow for Noah. Our son will have every chance at life."

The determination in his voice cut through my despair. I nodded, clinging to his words.

That night, sleep wouldn't come. While Sean made calls from his office, I sat in Noah's nursery, touching his tiny clothes, his stuffed animals. The empty room echoed the hollow feeling in my chest.

Summer found me around midnight. "Ms. Carter, you need sleep. You look terrible."

I shook my head, face pale from ongoing stomach pain. "Can't sleep with him gone."

"At least lie down. I can bring tea."

"No," I said, clutching Noah's favorite blanket.

Sean appeared in the doorway. "Eve, he's waking up for his feeding."

I checked my watch—3:27 AM. "I need to go to him."

"He's here," Sean said quietly. "Wallace approved discharge. He's in our bedroom."

I rushed past him to find Noah in his portable crib, fussing. I scooped him up, fighting fresh tears.

"He needs formula," Sean said. "I'll get it."

Summer stepped forward. "I can do that, Mr. Winters."

"No," Sean replied firmly. "Stay with Eve and Noah. I'll handle it."

As Sean left, Summer visibly relaxed. Something in her expression caught my attention—relief? I filed that away, focusing on Noah.

From the hallway came Sean's voice on the phone.

"Matt, update on those accounts?... Transfer everything by morning... Yeah, already talked to Cole at FCIB about the other matter... No, I'm fine."

A pause.

"As fine as possible right now."

Sean returned with the bottle, handing it to me while silencing his buzzing phone.

"Go deal with work," I offered. "SkyEve needs you."

"It can wait," he insisted. "Tomorrow morning, we'll see Dr. Cole."

I nodded gratefully, offering the bottle to Noah. He turned away after barely two sips.

"That's weird," I frowned. "He hardly drank anything."

Sean watched closely. "Has he been eating normally before this?"

"Not really," I admitted. "Actually, he rejects formula I make but drinks what Summer prepares."

Noah started fussing again, completely refusing the bottle.

"He won't finish," I said, frustration rising. "He used to drain his bottles, but lately he spits up everything I make."

Sean's expression changed, something cold entering his eyes. "Let's check something."

In his office, Sean pulled up security footage from the kitchen. We watched Summer preparing formula several times over the past week.

"Nothing jumps out," I said, studying the screen.

Sean rewound the footage, watching more carefully. "Maybe it's not what we see but what we don't. Could she add something to make it taste better? Something sweet?"

A chill hit me. "You think someone's putting stuff in his formula? Poisoning him?"