by Levy, Marc
“Yes, I do,” Andrew murmured as the last of his strength ebbed away.
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about your wife. After what you did to her? Andrew, you left her on your wedding night, remember? You fell madly in love with me. Believe me—you can let go of her. Your death will delight her as much as it does me. Farewell, Andrew. Your eyes are closing. I’ll let you live your final moments in peace.”
24.
The ambulance transporting Andrew Stilman arrived at the emergency room at 7:42 A.M. The traffic hadn’t been as slow as usual that morning. A team of doctors and nurses busied themselves around his stretcher as soon as it appeared.
“Thirty-nine-year-old male stabbed in the base of the back half an hour ago. Severe hemorrhaging. Three cardiac arrests. Resuscitated each time, but his pulse is very weak and his body temperature has dropped significantly. He’s in your hands now,” said the emergency doctor, handing the admission form over to the surgeon.
Andrew opened his eyes. As he was being wheeled into surgery, the neon strip lights formed a broken white line above his head.
He attempted to speak, but the intern leaned over and told him to reserve his strength for the operation.
“I’m sorry . . . Valerie . . . Tell her . . . ,” he whispered, then lost consciousness.
* * *
A police car stopped outside, its sirens wailing. A woman got out and ran into the hospital. She hurried across the lobby and caught up with the nurses pushing Andrew’s stretcher.
A nurse grabbed her around the waist to stop her from going any further.
“I’m his wife!” she screamed. “Please tell me he’s alive!”
“You’ve got to let us operate on him, ma’am. Every minute counts. We’ll let you know as soon as we can.”
Valerie watched Andrew disappear through the doors to the operating room. She stood rooted to the spot, stunned. Seeing that she was in shock, a nurse led her to the waiting room.
“The surgeons on duty this morning are the best I know. He couldn’t be in better hands,” she assured Valerie.
Simon arrived a few moments later. He rushed towards the reception desk and spotted Valerie sobbing in the waiting room. She stood up when she saw him and collapsed into his arms.
“It’ll be okay, you’ll see,” Simon said through his tears.
“Tell me he’ll get through this, Simon.”
“I promise you he will. I know him: he’s a fighter. He loves you, Valerie. He was telling me yesterday, over and over again. He was so angry at himself. Who could have done this? Why?”
“The police officer who drove me here told me that nobody saw anything,” Valerie said, choking back a sob.
“Maybe Andrew saw something . . . ”
Simon and Valerie sat next to each other, waiting as the hours ticked by, their eyes riveted to the closed doors leading to the operating room.
* * *
In the afternoon, a surgeon came to find Valerie and Simon in the waiting room. They held their breath as they listened to his report.
Half an hour had passed between Andrew being stabbed and arriving at the hospital. His heart had stopped beating several times in the ambulance. The first responders had brought him back to life each time, but they had nearly lost him.
The operation had gone as well as the doctors could have hoped. The weapon had caused severe, deep lesions, and he’d lost a lot of blood—far too much blood. He was alive but his prognosis was critical and would remain so for at least the next forty-eight hours.
That was all the surgeon could tell them. As he left he added that Valerie and Simon should keep their hopes up; in life, anything was possible.
On Tuesday, July 10, Andrew Stilman’s article appeared on the front page of The New York Times. Valerie read it out loud to Andrew on his hospital bed. He still hadn’t regained consciousness.
THANKS TO
Pauline, Louis, and Georges.
Raymond, Danièle, and Lorraine.
Susanna Lea.
Emmanuelle Hardouin.
Nicole Lattès, Leonello Brandolini, Antoine Caro.
Elisabeth Villeneuve, Anne-Marie Lenfant, Arié Sberro, Sylvie Bardeau, Lydie Leroy, and all the staff at Editions Robert Laffont.
Pauline Normand, Marie-Ève Provost.
Léonard Anthony, Sébastien Canot, Romain Ruetsch, Danielle Melconian, Naja Baldwin, Mark Kessler, Stéphanie Charrier, Katrin Hodapp, Laura Mamelok, Kerry Glencorse, Julia Wagner, Aline Grond.
Brigitte and Sarah Forissier.
Mary’s Fish Camp.
And a big thank you to Victoria Donda, whose life and writings have informed this story.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marc Levy’s novels have sold over thirty million copies and been translated into over 40 languages, making him today’s most widely read French author. His English language debut, If Only It Were True, sold almost half a million copies and was made into a film starring Reese Witherspoon and Mark Ruffalo. Levy lives with his family in New York.
