Page 61 of Forbidden Vows

“What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you, Eileen? Is this how you intend to reconcile with your stepsister? Through a shouting match?”

“We got carried away—” Ciara tries to play it off, but he interrupts her with a sickly grunt.

“Don’t even. I warned you. Keep your tongue mellow. Eileen isn’t the type to blow up without provocation, Ciara. We both know you started it,” he says. “For heaven’s sake, girls, how the hell can I leave this world with you two still bickering like this?”

“Are you planning to leave this world anytime soon?” I quietly ask.

“Are you blind, child?” he scoffs. “I’m obviously not in the best shape of my life. The last thing I want is to leave you two behind with nothing but strife and harsh words. You need to make amends with one another and you need to make them now.”

“Where’s your doctor? I’d like to speak to him,” I say.

“Pfft, good luck,” Ciara sighs. “He keeps citing doctor-patient privilege, and Daddy won’t tell me anything, either.”

“Is that true?”

“I’m ill. What more do you need to know?”

I gasp, struggling with the entire concept. “Ill with what? Is there a treatment? Anton has plenty of connections in the medical system,” I say.

“Do you think I like being poked and prodded?”

“Nobody likes that part,” I shoot back. “But it’s necessary.” I pause to cradle my growing bump. “Don’t you want to meet your grandchildren, Dad?”

He stills, prompting a harsh laugh from Ciara. “Wow. Go straight for the heart,” she whispers. “Maybe that’ll get the old bull running again.”

“Whatever it takes,” I whisper back.

“What are you having? Boy or girl?” Dad asks, his voice noticeably lower.

“We weren’t able to get a good look at the last ultrasound but we did find out that we’re having twins,” I reply with a warm smile.

He gives a silent gasp before his hand goes up to his chest. It was meant to be a wonderful surprise, yet his reaction strikes me with a pang of worry.

“Twins.”

“Dad, are you okay?” Ciara asks with a trembling voice.

“Yeah, I’m…”

Within less than a second, I watch as my father collapses onto the floor. I hear Ciara’s scream as I bolt toward him. I kneel down and turn him over. He appears even paler, barely conscious. His chest makes terrible, raspy sounds as he breathes, while his hands quiver uncontrollably.

“Where’s his doctor?” I demand.

“Dad!” Ciara calls out to him.

“Where’s his doctor?” I ask again.

She gives me a terrified look. “I… I don’t know.”

“Find him, I’ll call 911.”

For the first time, Ciara doesn’t fight me on something I ask of her. My heart is pounding, my fingers trembling as I keep one hand on my father’s chest and use the other to reach for my phone.

“Hang in there, Dad,” I tell him.

Two hours later, Ciara and I are in the ER waiting room. I can hear the doctors and nurses talking. Orders bouncing back and forth. Machines beeping.

Ciara takes a seat closest to the door, looking lost.

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