Chapter 3
I thought I had misheard her.
Marcus did too.
“What did you say?”
Isabella’s breathing became shallow.
The security officer still held her wrist.
She looked trapped.
And trapped people sometimes stop lying carefully.
“That baby,” she repeated, pointing at my stomach, “was never supposed to be yours.”
Marcus moved toward her.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Marcus,” I whispered.
He looked at me.
I could see panic forming behind his anger.
Isabella laughed through her tears.
“You really have no idea, do you?”
“Enough games.”
“I’m not playing.”
The doctor interrupted.
“Police are on their way. Nobody should question her further.”
Marcus ignored him.
“What do you know about my child?”
Isabella’s eyes stayed on me.
“Ask your wife.”
I stared back.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Oh, please.”
“I don’t.”
“You expect me to believe you never wondered why you got pregnant so quickly after the clinic?”
My skin went cold.
Marcus turned toward me.
“The clinic?”
I swallowed.
“It was a fertility consultation.”
His eyebrows pulled together.
“You told me it was a routine gynecologist visit.”
“It was.”
“No, Khloe. You just called it a fertility consultation.”
I shut my eyes.
This was the worst possible moment.
But I couldn’t lie.
“Marcus, after we tried for over a year, I went to ask about testing.”
“Without telling me?”
“You were working constantly.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“You said you didn’t want doctors involved yet.”
His jaw tightened.
I remembered that argument.
Marcus had been convinced stress was the problem.
I had been terrified there was something wrong with me.
So I went alone.
One consultation.
Bloodwork.
Nothing more.
“I never had treatment,” I said.
“I never had IVF. I never had an insemination. Nothing.”
Isabella gave a small laugh.
“Maybe not voluntarily.”
Everyone looked at her.
The words felt poisonous.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
She said nothing.
The security officer’s radio sounded again.
“Police are entering the floor.”
Isabella’s entire posture changed.
She turned toward Dennis.
“I need a lawyer.”
“That’s your right.”
“I’m not saying anything else.”
Marcus snapped.
“You’re going to explain what you meant.”
“My lawyer can explain it.”
Two police officers arrived less than a minute later.
One was a woman in her forties with calm eyes.
She introduced herself as Detective Elena Ruiz.
The other officer took Isabella into the hallway.
Marcus tried to follow.
Detective Ruiz stopped him.
“Sir.”
“She tried to hurt my wife.”
“And we will investigate that.”
“She knows something about my baby.”
Ruiz looked toward me.
“Your wife needs medical care before anything else.”
Marcus glanced back at the monitor.
The anger left him again.
He returned to my bedside.
But he didn’t touch me.
I wasn’t sure whether that hurt more or less.
Detective Ruiz spoke briefly with the security officer.
She requested the video.
She requested the medication bottle.
She requested our phones.
Then she looked at me.
“Mrs. Hale, when you’re medically stable, I’ll need a statement.”
I nodded.
Marcus asked, “Can you arrest her?”
“If the footage shows assault, yes. If testing shows she tampered with medication, additional charges may follow.”
“What about what she said?”
Ruiz’s expression changed slightly.
“About the baby?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll document it.”
“She knows something.”
“Maybe.”
“She does.”
Detective Ruiz lowered her voice.
“Mr. Hale, people who are cornered sometimes say things designed to cause maximum damage. Until we have evidence, don’t assume every statement is true.”
I wanted to believe her.
But Isabella’s terror had looked too real.
The doctor ordered blood tests.
They took vial after vial.
Then someone from hospital pharmacy arrived to examine the capsules.
The whole room became evidence.
My hospital room.
The place where I was supposed to be safe.
Marcus stood near the window.
I watched him without speaking.
Finally I asked:
“Was it really an entire weekend?”
He closed his eyes.
“Khloe.”
“I deserve the truth.”
“Yes.”
I looked away.
He spoke quickly.
“We were at the Denver conference. We had been drinking after the investor dinner.”
“That explains one night.”
He flinched.
I continued.
“What explains the next morning?”
He said nothing.
“And the next night?”
His face collapsed.
“There is no explanation.”
“You chose her.”
“No.”
“For a weekend, you chose her.”
“I was selfish.”
“You lied for six months.”
“I was terrified of losing you.”
“You should have thought about that before sleeping with her.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
A tear slipped down my face.
“You came home from that conference, climbed into our bed, touched my stomach, and told me you hoped we’d have a baby soon.”
He started crying.
I had seen Marcus cry only twice.
Once when his father died.
Once when I told him I was pregnant.
Now there was a third time.
But I couldn’t comfort him.
I didn’t want to.
“What did Isabella want from you?”
“Afterward?”
“Yes.”
“A relationship.”
“And?”
“I told her it was never happening.”
“Did she threaten you?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Marcus hesitated.
“She said you would leave if you knew.”
“She was right.”
His face went pale.
I hadn’t planned to say it.
But once the words were out, I realized they were true.
“At least,” I added, “I think she was.”
“Khloe, please.”
“I can’t do this right now.”
He nodded.
But then I remembered something.
“If she wanted us apart, why didn’t she tell me six months ago?”
Marcus stared at the floor.
“I don’t know.”
“She had proof?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“Messages. Hotel records.”
“So she could have destroyed our marriage anytime.”
“Yes.”
“But she waited.”
His eyes lifted.
We both understood the implication.
Maybe Isabella hadn’t just wanted Marcus.
Maybe she had been waiting for something else.
The pharmacist returned.
The expression on his face made my heart pound.
“Doctor?”
The doctor stepped away with him.
They whispered.
Marcus demanded, “What is it?”
The doctor came back.
“We opened several capsules.”
“And?”
“The powder inside does not match the medication label.”
I felt cold all over.
“What is it?”
“We need laboratory confirmation.”
“Can it hurt my baby?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Marcus gripped the bed rail.
“How quickly can you know?”
“We’re sending it to toxicology now.”
Detective Ruiz returned.
“We’ve reviewed the security footage.”
Marcus turned.
“And?”
“She’s being detained on suspicion of assault and evidence tampering while we continue the investigation.”
“Evidence tampering?”
Ruiz glanced at me.
“The video shows Ms. Romano entering the room before Mrs. Hale arrived. She handled the bottle for approximately four minutes.”
My stomach churned.
“Does it show what she put in it?”
“Not clearly.”
“Where did she get it?”
Ruiz hesitated.
“She removed a small plastic packet from her purse.”
Marcus cursed.
“What else?”
The detective’s expression told me there was more.
“A second person entered the room while Ms. Romano was here.”
Marcus went completely still.
“Who?”
“We don’t know yet. The individual wore hospital scrubs, cap, and mask.”
My pulse quickened.
“What did they do?”
“They spoke for approximately twelve minutes.”
“Can you hear them?”
“No audio.”
“What happened after that?”
Ruiz looked at me.
“The second person opened your electronic medical file on the room workstation.”
The doctor frowned.
“That should require staff credentials.”
“It did.”
“So someone on staff helped her?”
“That is one possibility.”
Marcus asked, “What did they access?”
“We’re waiting for the hospital’s IT department to pull the audit logs.”
The doctor looked deeply concerned.
“Mrs. Hale’s reproductive history would be in that chart.”
Isabella’s words came back.
Maybe not voluntarily.
I felt nauseated.
“My fertility appointment.”
Everyone looked at me.
“The clinic I went to…it’s part of this hospital network.”
The doctor nodded slowly.
“So those records could be accessible here.”
My heart started racing.
I remembered the clinic.
The blood test.
The ultrasound.
The nurse who had asked me to sign several electronic forms.
The doctor who told me everything looked normal.
And then…
I remembered something else.
Something I had dismissed at the time.
“I fainted.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“What?”
“At the fertility clinic.”
“When?”
“The day I went.”
“You never told me that.”
“They said my blood sugar dropped.”
I looked at the doctor.
“They gave me juice afterward. I woke up in a recovery room.”
The doctor’s face became unreadable.
“How long were you unconscious?”
“I don’t know. Maybe an hour.”
“Were any procedures performed?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
“They said no.”
Marcus looked sick.
Detective Ruiz wrote something down.
“Which clinic physician treated you?”
“Dr. Adrian Cole.”
The doctor beside me stopped breathing for half a second.
It was tiny.
But I saw it.
“What?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“Doctor.”
Marcus moved toward him.
“You know that name.”
The doctor looked at Detective Ruiz.
“You need to speak with hospital administration.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer.
I raised my voice.
“WHY?”
The doctor finally looked at me.
“Dr. Cole no longer works here.”
My mouth went dry.
“When did he leave?”
“About five months ago.”
One month after my appointment.
Marcus asked, “Why?”
The doctor hesitated again.
“He was terminated.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know the full details.”
“That’s a lie,” Marcus said.
The doctor’s face tightened.
“I’m bound by confidentiality.”
Detective Ruiz stepped forward.
“Not if it’s relevant to an active criminal investigation.”
The doctor exhaled.
“There were concerns about unauthorized access to reproductive samples.”
I stopped breathing.
“What samples?”
He looked at me.
“Eggs.”
Marcus stared.
“Sperm.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“And embryos.”
My baby kicked.
I grabbed my stomach.
Marcus looked at me.
I looked at him.
Neither of us spoke.
Then Detective Ruiz’s phone rang.
She answered.
“Yes?”
Her expression changed.
“Send it to me.”
She hung up.
“What?” Marcus demanded.
Ruiz stared at me.
“The hospital’s IT team pulled access logs from your old fertility-clinic visit.”
My fingers tightened around the blanket.
“And?”
“Your chart was accessed after you lost consciousness.”
My heart hammered.
“By Dr. Cole?”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“What did he open?”
Ruiz’s voice became softer.
“An order was entered under your name.”
“For what?”
She looked at Marcus.
Then back at me.
“For an intrauterine insemination procedure.”
I stopped breathing.
“That never happened.”
“The system says it did.”
“No.”
I shook my head violently.
“No. No, I would know.”
The doctor stepped closer.
“Not necessarily if you were sedated.”
Marcus looked like he had been punched.
I stared at Detective Ruiz.
“Whose sperm?”
She didn’t answer.
“Whose sperm was used?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Marcus whispered my name.
I turned toward him.
May you like
And in that moment, Isabella’s words finally made sense.
That baby was never supposed to be yours.
