That night, heavy rain hammered the rooftops of Portland. Strong winds rattled the windows of old brick buildings in the Pearl District, and on the fourth floor of a narrow apartment, Hannah Pierce stood bent forward, gripping her swollen belly as another contraction surged through her body.
She struggled to breathe while her phone lay on the kitchen counter, and with shaking fingers she dialed her husband. “Andrew, please listen, it is time and the contractions are getting closer, I really need you because I am scared.”
There was a pause before his voice came through, flat and annoyed. “You cannot be serious right now, I already told you that if it is another girl then do not expect me to stay because I am not raising a second disappointment.”
“You are saying that while your child is being born,” Hannah cried as her body trembled from pain.
“I am busy, figure it out yourself,” he replied before ending the call.
She stared at the phone in disbelief until another contraction forced a cry from her throat, and she stumbled into the hallway while clutching the railing for support. Her voice reached Mrs. Carter, the elderly widow downstairs, and within minutes the older woman rushed up, saw Hannah’s pale face, and immediately called an ambulance.
While Hannah was carried down the stairs on a stretcher, Andrew was nowhere near Portland. He was inside a luxury hotel in Aspen, lying across clean white sheets with a glass of bourbon in his hand, while beside him lay his young assistant Ashley, laughing softly.
“Are you not worried at all,” she asked playfully, “you are lying to your pregnant wife without even thinking twice.”
Andrew shrugged without concern and said, “She has no energy and no ambition, but you are different, and when you give me a son I will leave everything for you.”
He spoke as if promises had no value, while far away Hannah endured hours of pain. Just before sunrise, a tiny baby girl was born, fragile yet alive, and they named her Faith.
Shortly after giving birth, Hannah lost consciousness from exhaustion.
The next afternoon, Andrew returned to his house in Bellevue feeling irritated but confident, assuming Hannah had followed his instructions and left in shame. Instead, he found the gates wide open and a moving truck blocking the driveway while workers carried furniture out of the house, including the crib he had refused to assemble, her antique vanity, and even his office chair.
