Chapter 5
Isabella asked for a lawyer and stopped talking.
But cameras didn’t need lawyers.
Detective Ruiz returned the next morning carrying a tablet.
I hadn’t slept.
Neither had Marcus.
He spent the night in a chair across the room because I refused to let him lie beside me.
The betrayal between us felt enormous.
But the danger surrounding our baby felt bigger.
For now.
Ruiz closed the door.
“We enhanced footage from yesterday.”
Marcus stood immediately.
“What did you find?”
“The unidentified person in scrubs removed their mask for approximately three seconds.”
My heart jumped.
“Who?”
She placed the tablet in front of us.
The image was grainy.
A woman.
Mid-fifties.
Dark hair streaked with gray.
Marcus stared.
Then his face collapsed.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“You know her?”
He sat down hard.
“That’s Rachel.”
His dead brother’s widow.
I stared at the screen.
Rachel Hale.
The woman whose signature had transferred Daniel’s reproductive samples to the clinic where I had later been treated.
The woman Marcus hadn’t spoken to in years.
“Are you certain?” Ruiz asked.
“Yes.”
“Absolutely?”
“Yes.”
Ruiz tapped the screen.
“We ran facial comparison against DMV records.”
“And?”
“Ninety-seven percent probability.”
Marcus rubbed both hands over his face.
“Why would Rachel be helping Isabella?”
Ruiz looked at me.
“That’s what we need to find out.”
“Have you located her?”
“Yes.”
That surprised all of us.
“Where?”
“She has been living under her maiden name, Rachel Mercer, twenty miles from here.”
Marcus stood.
“You said she moved to Oregon.”
“She did. She returned three years ago.”
“And never contacted us?”
“Apparently not.”
“Can you arrest her?”
“Not yet.”
“She disguised herself as hospital staff!”
“That may support charges. But we’re building the case carefully.”
I asked, “Did she put anything in my pills?”
“The footage shows Isabella doing that.”
“So what did Rachel do?”
Ruiz hesitated.
“Rachel accessed your chart.”
“We know.”
“She also changed something.”
My throat tightened.
“What?”
“Your emergency contact preferences.”
Marcus frowned.
“Why?”
“She added a secondary authorized visitor.”
“Who?”
Ruiz looked directly at me.
“Rachel Mercer.”
I felt ice move through my veins.
“So she could get near me.”
“That appears possible.”
Marcus cursed under his breath.
Ruiz continued.
“We also obtained toxicology results on the capsules.”
My fingers tightened.
“What was inside?”
“A medication used to stimulate uterine contractions.”
Marcus went completely still.
“They were trying to make her go into labor?”
Ruiz nodded.
“At your gestational age, premature delivery could be dangerous.”
“For the baby?”
“Yes.”
“For Khloe?”
“Potentially.”
Marcus looked like he wanted to destroy the room.
I asked the harder question.
“Could it kill my baby?”
Ruiz didn’t answer.
The doctor did.
“If enough had been taken, complications could have been severe.”
I covered my mouth.
I had swallowed one.
One capsule.
The doctor explained that the dosage inside each had been inconsistent.
Someone had opened them manually.
Some contained very little.
Others contained much more.
“How many did I take?” I whispered.
“One, based on your schedule.”
“And if I had taken another tonight?”
The doctor looked away.
Marcus slammed his fist into the wall.
“Marcus!”
He stepped back, breathing hard.
Ruiz watched him.
“Mr. Hale, I need you calm.”
“My wife could have lost our baby.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Marcus,” I said.
He turned.
“Sit down.”
He obeyed.
Not because Ruiz ordered him.
Because I did.
The detective continued.
“There’s another issue.”
Of course there was.
“We found a connection between Rachel and Dr. Adrian Cole.”
“How?”
“Property records. They jointly owned a medical consulting company seven years ago.”
Marcus stared.
“You’re saying Rachel worked with the doctor who may have inseminated Khloe?”
“Yes.”
I asked, “Why would Daniel’s widow do that?”
Ruiz looked at Marcus.
“That may depend on what happened after Daniel died.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
“What are you asking?”
“Did Daniel have money?”
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“Our family has money.”
“How was his estate structured?”
Marcus didn’t answer immediately.
I looked at him.
“Marcus?”
“My grandfather created a family trust.”
“How much?”
“Significant.”
“How significant?”
He looked uncomfortable.
“About ninety million dollars when Daniel died.”
I stared.
I knew Marcus came from wealth.
But he never discussed exact numbers.
“How was it divided?”
“Daniel and I were equal beneficiaries.”
“What happened to his share when he died?”
Marcus swallowed.
“It reverted to the family line.”
“What does that mean?”
“If Daniel had a biological child, that child would inherit his branch.”
The room went silent.
I understood.
So did Ruiz.
“If he had no child,” Marcus continued, “his share eventually transferred to me.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much is his share worth now?”
“Probably more than sixty million.”
I looked down at my belly.
Detective Ruiz spoke carefully.
“If your baby were biologically Daniel’s…”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“The child could potentially have a claim.”
My heart raced.
“This is about money?”
“Possibly.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Rachel tried to make me deliver early.”
“That doesn’t fit if she wanted the baby alive,” Ruiz admitted.
Marcus looked up.
“Unless she needed proof the baby existed.”
“What?”
He stood.
“The trust requires a living biological descendant.”
Ruiz frowned.
“Meaning?”
“A fetus has no claim.”
My entire body went cold.
“But a baby born alive…”
“Could.”
I stared at Marcus.
“So they wanted me to give birth early.”
“And then what?” he whispered.
Nobody answered.
But we were all thinking the same thing.
If Rachel believed my baby was Daniel’s biological child, she might want to establish inheritance.
And once that was established…
What happened to me?
What happened to my child?
I felt sick.
“Why would she need Isabella?”
Marcus answered.
“Access.”
I looked at him.
“What kind?”
“She knew me.”
I remembered the affair.
The hotel.
The photographs.
Maybe seducing Marcus hadn’t been random.
Maybe Isabella hadn’t stumbled into our marriage.
Maybe she had been sent.
Ruiz’s phone buzzed.
She read the message.
“We got Isabella’s financial records.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“And?”
“Over the past eight months, she received four payments totaling one hundred eighty thousand dollars.”
“From Rachel?”
“From a shell company.”
“Owned by?”
“Still tracing it.”
I whispered, “She was paid.”
Ruiz nodded.
Marcus looked destroyed.
“She slept with me because someone paid her?”
“Maybe.”
The words should have made me feel better.
They didn’t.
He still chose to betray me.
Paid or not, nobody forced him.
Ruiz looked at him.
“I need you to think carefully. Before the Denver conference, had Isabella been pursuing you?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Several months.”
“Did she encourage you to drink?”
Marcus looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“Did she ask questions about your family?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“My parents. Daniel. The trust.”
Ruiz’s eyes sharpened.
“The trust?”
Marcus nodded.
“I thought she was making conversation.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You discussed our family fortune with a woman who was flirting with you?”
He looked at me.
“I was stupid.”
“You were more than stupid.”
“I know.”
“No, you keep saying that because you don’t have anything else.”
He fell silent.
Ruiz’s phone rang.
She stepped into the hall.
My doctor checked the fetal monitor.
The contractions had slowed.
The baby remained stable.
That should have relieved me.
But I kept imagining someone planning my pregnancy before I even knew it existed.
Marcus sat beside me.
“I’m going to fix this.”
I stared at him.
“You can’t.”
“I can help.”
“You can help the police.”
“I’ll do anything.”
“You can’t undo what you did.”
His eyes filled.
“I know.”
I looked away.
For several minutes, there was only the heartbeat monitor.
Then Ruiz returned.
Her expression was different.
“Rachel’s gone.”
Marcus stood.
“What do you mean gone?”
“We sent officers to her residence.”
“And?”
“The house is empty.”
“Recently?”
“Very.”
My pulse rose.
“How recently?”
“A neighbor saw her leave approximately two hours ago.”
“With luggage?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“Not yet.”
Then Ruiz looked at me.
“We found something inside.”
“What?”
“A room.”
Marcus frowned.
“What kind of room?”
The detective hesitated.
Then she turned the tablet around.
The photograph made me stop breathing.
It was a nursery.
White crib.
Yellow walls.
Stuffed animals.
A changing table.
And above the crib, wooden letters spelled a name.
ETHAN DANIEL HALE.
I grabbed my stomach.
Ethan.
The name Marcus and I had chosen for our son.
A name we had told nobody except our closest family.
Marcus stared at the photograph.
“How did she know?”
Ruiz swiped to another image.
The wall was covered with photographs.
Me leaving work.
Me entering the fertility clinic.
Me buying baby clothes.
Marcus outside our home.
Ultrasound images.
Copies of my medical records.
Then one photo stopped my heart.
It showed me sleeping.
May you like
In my own bedroom.
Taken from inside the house.
