Chapter 8 - The Child Before Lily
I reached the stairwell with Lily pressed against my chest.
Firefighters found us two floors below.
The hospital fire was contained within minutes.
The smoke had come from deliberately burned linens.
The police officers outside my room had been drugged.
The masked man disappeared.
So did Vanessa.
All they found was blood near the broken door.
Adrian was transferred under guard.
When I told him what Vanessa had shouted, his face emptied.
“My first child?”
“You tell me.”
He stared at the floor.
“Three years ago, you were pregnant.”
The words barely came out.
“I miscarried.”
“I know.”
“You told me you were in Chicago.”
“I wasn’t.”
My fingers went cold.
“Where were you?”
“At the hospital.”
I stopped breathing.
“I stood in the hallway.”
“You were there?”
He nodded.
“You never came inside.”
“My father told me the pregnancy wasn’t mine.”
“And you believed him?”
Adrian rubbed his face.
“I wanted to.”
That answer hurt worse than a lie.
He had not stayed away because he was confused.
He had chosen the version of reality that required the least courage.
“I woke up alone,” I said.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Emma—”
“I asked the nurse to check the hallway because I thought maybe you were coming.”
His face twisted.
“I’m sorry.”
“I waited six hours.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that.”
He looked down.
Silence stretched between us.
Then he said, “My father had the remains tested.”
“What?”
“He said the baby wasn’t mine.”
“There were no remains available for private testing.”
Adrian’s eyes lifted.
“He showed me a report.”
“Who signed it?”
Neither of us needed to say the name.
The same clinic that falsified my fertility records.
Daniel entered with a small evidence bag.
Inside was a flash drive.
“It was found taped under Vanessa’s dressing table at the cathedral.”
“What’s on it?” I asked.
“Files from Richard’s private server.”
Adrian reached for it.
Daniel pulled it back.
“You don’t touch evidence.”
“It’s my family.”
“It’s her case.”
Daniel plugged the drive into an isolated laptop.
Folders appeared.
Medical records.
Trust documents.
Payments.
Surveillance photographs.
Then a folder labeled E.M. Pregnancy One.
Inside was a video.
The timestamp showed the night of my miscarriage.
Richard stood inside the private clinic office with the doctor.
“We tell Adrian it wasn’t his,” Richard said.
The doctor shifted nervously.
“And Mrs. Carter?”
“She’ll believe the loss was natural.”
“What about the medication?”
“Destroy the order.”
My skin went numb.
“What medication?” Adrian whispered.
The video continued.
Richard placed an envelope on the desk.
“She cannot produce an heir before Adrian’s thirty-fifth birthday. If she does, the trust shifts.”
The doctor accepted the money.
Adrian stood so quickly his chair fell backward.
“He caused it.”
Daniel paused the video.
“We don’t know that yet.”
“He said medication.”
“We need the actual order.”
I stared at the frozen image of Richard.
My child had not simply died.
Someone might have decided the baby was inconvenient.
Adrian punched the wall.
His injured shoulder gave out.
He collapsed with a cry.
I didn’t move to help him.
Not because I felt nothing.
Because something inside me had gone very quiet.
Daniel opened the next file.
A pharmacy authorization appeared.
The medication was listed under my name.
The prescribing physician was fake.
But the person who collected it was caught on camera.
Evelyn Carter.
May you like
Adrian’s mother.
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