Prologue

Somewhere inside AndreasKlinik Hospital in Cham, Switzerland, a beautiful woman is lying on a hospital bed, her pink satin gown bunched up to her stomach. She is in labor—her baby moments from entering the world.

The woman is beautiful, her thick dark hair is pulled back into a low bun, escaped tendrils sticking to the sweat on her forehead and cheeks.

Just as any woman would be, she is anxious about the end of this nine-month battle, and, much to her husband's chagrin, they have decided to keep the baby's gender a surprise. It was her idea to wait, she enjoys the suspense of not knowing what to expect.

The woman's three other baby boys are at home, being taken care of by the caretaker. She prefers for them to be here, to welcome their youngest sibling into the family, but she knows it would be too much of a risk for the whole family to be in one place.

Her husband is the kind of man that other men try to find and kill. His job requires it. Though she would never admit it, she hates that this is what her life has become—always in hiding, not knowing whether she is safe even in the confines of her own home.

Her husband is sitting in a chair in the farthest corner of the room, his face grim and pale from the news that was given to him a minute ago by the doctors. He is not happy with what they said; this hospital was chosen by him specifically because it promises the best services.

But tonight he just found out even the best services cannot save the love of his life.

He knows it is not the hospital's fault, but right now he can't be thinking about whose fault it is, his sole focus will only be on his wife.

It hurts him deeply to see her in so much pain.

The doctors and nurses who were running around the room, trying to save her life just moments before, are now quite—hopeless. All there is left to do is try to make her comfortable for these last moments.

Finding the courage to look at her, her husband finally sees that she is beckoning for him to come to her side. The woman—her face distorted in pain—knows that there is something wrong. Perhaps she can see it in his eyes.

In a few long strides, he has reached her side, looking down at her while his unshed tears fight to escape. No!—he fights back the emotion that threatens to take over. He had to be strong for her, she is not allowed to see how weak he really is.

The woman struggles to lift her thin trembling hand to take his much larger one, but she is too weak.

Her husband takes her hand gently in both of his. He can feel how fragile she has become; the disease has taken over and altered her bones, they are now so weak and brittle that he feels the gentlest of pressure will break them.

She is whispering something, and he leans forward to hear her last words. Her voice—as croaky and as breathless as she is now—still sounds like an angel's voice in his ears.

He loves her so much—loves her with every part of his being. She is the center of his world. And he is going to lose her.

She smiles up at her husband. His handsome face will stay in her memory forever, she is sure of it. She will always remember the way his smile would light up whenever she walks in the room, the way the creases between his dark eyebrows would deepen in grief—like how it is now.

Everyone in the room is quiet, witnessing the end of an epic love story.

He leans in to link their lips together for the last time and, as he pulls away, he sees in her eyes the last command she will ever give him. Without a single word escaping her lips, he understands immediately. A silent conversation passes between them.

A few seconds later, the beeping of the machinery beside her bed transforms into a steady high-pitched sound, later accompanied by her husband's quiet sobs.

And in those last moments of her blissful life, a baby is born.