Chapter 2 - The HeartbeatThe hospital lights flashed above me as the stretcher raced through the emergency corridor.
“Fetal distress!”
“Get obstetrics down here!”
“Prep ultrasound!”
I stared at the ceiling.
Ethan held my hand.
“Stay with me.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“You don’t understand.”
His eyes softened.
“I understand exactly what you’re afraid of.”
“My baby isn’t moving.”
“They’re going to find her heartbeat.”
“They said it was dropping.”
“And they’re going to fix it.”
The doors burst open.
A doctor rushed in.
“Six months pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“Trauma to the abdomen?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“My sister kicked me.”
The doctor paused.
“Direct impact?”
“Yes.”
They began examining me.
Cold gel touched my stomach.
The ultrasound machine hummed.
I turned my head toward the monitor.
At first, I saw nothing.
Then the doctor leaned closer.
“There.”
My breath caught.
A tiny flicker appeared.
“Heartbeat?”
“Yes.”
I started crying.
“She’s alive.”
The doctor nodded.
“But her heart rate is unstable.”
Ethan tightened his grip around my hand.
“Can you tell if she’s injured?”
“We need more tests.”
The nurse began inserting an IV.
The doctor asked questions.
“Any previous complications?”
“No.”
“Any medications?”
“No.”
“Any known medical conditions?”
“No.”
Then suddenly the doctor frowned.
“What?”
He looked at the monitor.
“Her heart rate changed again.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’re not certain yet.”
The room grew quiet.
Then the doctor asked:
“Were you given anything today?”
“No.”
“Food or drink from anyone unusual?”
I blinked.
“I had lunch with my family.”
“What did you eat?”
“Nothing unusual.”
Ethan suddenly looked at me.
“What about the tea?”
I frowned.
“What tea?”
“The tea your mother brought you.”
My blood ran cold.
Earlier that afternoon, my mother had handed me a glass of herbal tea.
She had said it was “good for pregnancy.”
I had taken two sips.
Then left it on the table.
The doctor heard.
“Do you still have the glass?”
“No.”
Ethan looked toward the door.
“My mother might.”
The doctor’s expression changed.
“We need to know exactly what was in it.”
Before anyone could say anything else, a nurse hurried in.
“Doctor, the lab called.”
“What did they find?”
“There’s an abnormal substance in the bloodwork.”
My heart stopped.
“What substance?”
The nurse hesitated.
“We're running confirmation now.”
Ethan looked at me.
“Claire…”
Then the doctor asked something that made my entire body go numb.
“Has anyone in your family ever tried to interfere with your pregnancy?”
“No.”
I thought about my mother.
My father.
Vanessa.
The trust.
The argument.
The strange fear in Vanessa’s eyes.
“No.”
The doctor studied my face.
“You’re sure?”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Then we’ll proceed carefully.”
An hour later, I was moved to a private room.
The doctor returned with a folder.
“Your baby is stable for now.”
I nearly collapsed with relief.
“For now?”
“She has responded well, but we need monitoring.”
“What was in my blood?”
“We're still waiting for a final toxicology confirmation.”
Ethan looked at the doctor.
“Could someone have given her something?”
“Yes.”
“Could it have harmed the baby?”
“Yes.”
The word struck harder than Vanessa’s kick.
Then my phone buzzed.
It was Noah.
A message.
I still have the video.
My fingers trembled.
I opened it.
The recording showed Vanessa kicking me.
But Noah had accidentally captured something else.
The camera swung toward my mother just before the kick.
She was holding an envelope.
And she wasn't looking at me.
She was looking directly at Vanessa.
Then I zoomed in.
My mother whispered something.
The audio was faint.
But clear enough.
“You have to do it now.”
My blood turned cold.
Ethan watched the screen.
“Play it again.”
I did.
“You have to do it now.”
Then Noah sent another message.
Claire, there's something else.
A second video appeared.
This one had been recorded inside the house.
It showed my father standing in the hallway that afternoon.
He was speaking to a man I had never seen before.
And my father said:
“If the baby is born, we lose everything.”
Ethan slowly looked at me.
I couldn't breathe.
My husband whispered:
“Your family wasn't trying to stop the inheritance.”
May you like
He paused.
“They were trying to stop your daughter from ever receiving it.”
