He flew in that same day. Took one look at me and said I was barely holding on. That there was still a small chance. A narrow window.
But surgery while pregnant? Risky. Dangerous.
I didn’t even hesitate. “Do it.”
He nodded. I waited till the door closed before I turned to my father again.
“I want to disappear.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Disappear?”
“I want Zeus to think I’m dead. I want him to suffer in silence. I want him to think I’ll never come back. I want him to feel the loss like I felt it every day he chose her over me.”
My father stared at me, and for a moment, I saw the reflection of myself in his eyes.
Not the broken girl anymore. The daughter of a king.
“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do,” he said. “I’ll pull every string I have. You’ll be a ghost by morning.”
They worked fast.
Doctors falsified my medical records. Dr. Alex drew up an organ donor directive and forged my signature. A death certificate was printed. My hospital chart was scrubbed clean. My face was removed from patient logs. Guards were posted at the doors with orders to shoot on sight if anyone came asking questions.
It happened in less than twelve hours.
And when it was done—when I was dead on paper—my father leaned over and kissed my forehead.
“You are reborn now, figlia mia. You will rise.”
Dr. Alex was sent to deliver the news personally.
He went to Zeus, who was probably still reeling from the drama of the night before, maybe still holding Zoraya’s hand.
The doctor handed him the paperwork, grim and quiet.
“We’re sorry, Mr. Lambert,” he said. “Miss Savanah didn’t make it through the night. She was seven weeks pregnant with your child and suffering from stage four brain cancer...”
Zeus didn’t speak. He was frozen on his seat.
“She left behind an organ donor directive. We’ve already begun the process. Her wishes were clear.”
Inside the envelope: my death certificate. A forged consent form. And a cold, clinical goodbye.
