Chapter 2 - The Heartbeat Behind the Curtain

The emergency room doors opened before the ambulance completely stopped.

Doctors surrounded me.

A nurse cut through the side of my floral dress.

Cold gel spread across my stomach.

The ultrasound screen faced away from me.

I watched the doctor’s expression instead.

Her name was Dr. Maya Patel.

She was calm.

Too calm.

“Is my baby alive?”

I asked.

“She has a heartbeat.”

Dr. Patel replied.

“But the impact appears to have caused a partial placental abruption.”

Noah stood near my shoulder.

“What does that mean?”

“Part of the placenta may have separated from the uterine wall.”

“Can you fix it?”

“We can monitor Claire.”

“We can control bleeding.”

“We can give medication to help the baby’s lungs develop.”

“But if the separation becomes worse, we may need to deliver early.”

I looked at the ceiling.

Our daughter was not supposed to be born for another three months.

The nursery walls were still unfinished.

The crib remained inside a cardboard box.

We had not chosen between the names Grace and Sophie.

“She still isn’t moving.”

I whispered.

“The baby may be conserving energy.”

Dr. Patel said.

“We need to watch her closely.”

A monitor was secured around my stomach.

My daughter’s heartbeat filled the room.

Fast.

Then slower.

Then fast again.

I listened to every change.

Each pause felt like a warning.

A police detective waited outside the curtain.

He introduced himself as Aaron Mills.

“Mrs. Carter, I can return later.”

He said.

“No.”

I replied.

“I want my statement recorded now.”

Noah sat beside me.

Detective Mills asked what happened before the attack.

“It was supposed to be a family barbecue.”

I said.

“My father told us Grandma Evelyn’s attorney would stop by.”

“What was the meeting about?”

“My grandmother died five months ago.”

“She owned Bennett Orchards.”

“My father managed the business, but she still owned most of it.”

“And what did she leave to you?”

“Fifty-one percent.”

The detective looked up.

“Did your sister receive anything?”

“She received money.”

“A house.”

“And twenty percent of the company’s future profits.”

“But she did not receive voting control.”

“Why did your grandmother choose you?”

“I cared for her during the last four years of her life.”

“I also found accounting problems inside the orchard.”

Noah looked at me.

“You never told me that.”

“I did not know how serious they were.”

Detective Mills continued.

“What document were you holding before the assault?”

“A trust agreement.”

“It would protect my shares for our daughter.”

“What happens if the child is born?”

“She becomes my protected successor.”

“And if something happens before birth?”

I closed my eyes.

“My father told everyone the shares would return to the family.”

“Is that true?”

“I don’t know.”

The detective wrote something down.

“Did Marissa know about the trust?”

“She screamed that the baby was taking everything from her.”

Someone had told her.

My phone was returned in a clear hospital bag.

Forty-three missed calls filled the screen.

Most were from my mother.

The first message read:

Please tell the police Marissa stumbled.

The second read:

Your father’s heart cannot survive a public scandal.

The third was worse.

You have always been the reasonable daughter.

I showed the messages to Detective Mills.

“Do not delete them.”

He said.

My mother called again.

I answered.

“Claire.”

She cried.

“How is the baby?”

“Alive.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Her relief lasted less than three seconds.

“You need to tell the police Marissa lost her balance.”

“She looked at my stomach before she kicked me.”

“She was emotional.”

“She thought you were taking her future.”

“I did not write Grandma’s will.”

“You knew how excluded she felt.”

“No.”

I said.

“She felt entitled.”

My mother’s voice hardened.

“You have always believed you were better than her.”

“I was working two jobs while Dad paid her rent.”

“This is not the time to discuss old resentments.”

“It became the time when she kicked my unborn child.”

“She is your sister.”

“And this is my daughter.”

My mother began crying.

“You are tearing this family apart.”

Noah took the phone from me.

“Helen.”

He said.

“Do not call Claire again tonight.”

“This is between my daughters.”

“No.”

“This is between a victim and the people pressuring her to lie.”

He ended the call.

The baby’s heartbeat suddenly slowed.

The monitor alarmed.

Dr. Patel ran inside.

“Turn Claire onto her left side.”

Nurses moved around me.

An oxygen mask covered my face.

The heartbeat dropped again.

I gripped Noah’s wrist.

“Please.”

He looked toward the monitor with tears in his eyes.

“Come on, baby girl.”

He whispered.

“Stay with us.”

For eleven terrifying seconds, the rhythm remained dangerously slow.

Then it began climbing.

One beat at a time.

The room exhaled.

Dr. Patel looked at me.

“We avoided an emergency delivery.”

“For now.”

The words stayed inside me.

For now.

Detective Mills returned after the room became quiet.

“Marissa has changed her statement.”

He said.

“She now claims Noah shoved her into you.”

Noah stared at him.

“That never happened.”

“We know.”

The detective replied.

“Luke’s video shows everything.”

“Then why did you come back?”

“Because someone tried to access Luke’s cloud account and delete the recording.”

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The login attempt came from my father’s home computer.

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