Chapter 2: The Papers in His Office
The paramedics arrived twelve minutes later.
I counted every second.
The front door opened, and cold air swept through the house. Heavy boots crossed the hardwood floor. A radio crackled somewhere downstairs.
For the first time in months, there were strangers in my home whom Eric couldn't order around.
One of the paramedics, a woman with silver-framed glasses, knelt beside my bed.
“Hi, Claire. My name is Denise. We're going to take care of you, okay?””
I nodded.
“Can you tell me if you've been having any pain?””
“Sometimes my stomach cramps.””
“When did that start?””
“Three days ago.””
Eric interrupted from the doorway.
“She exaggerates everything. Her pregnancy has made her anxious.””
Denise looked up.
“Sir, I need to speak with your wife without interruption.””
“I'm her husband.””
“And I'm the paramedic treating her. Please step outside.””
Eric opened his mouth.
Dad moved beside the door.
“You heard her.””
For a moment, I thought Eric would refuse. His fingers curled around the doorframe, and his jaw worked as he searched for a way to make the room obey him.
Then he forced a laugh.
“Fine. Everyone wants to treat me like a criminal.””
He walked out.
Mason followed him into the hallway, keeping a careful distance.
Denise waited until their footsteps faded.
“Claire, did someone cause those injuries?””
I looked at my mother.
She was sitting in the corner, crying silently into a tissue.
Then I looked at Dad.
His face was calm, but his hand rested on his knee so tightly that the knuckles had turned white.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Denise didn't flinch.
“Was it your husband?””
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.””
My mother covered her mouth.
Dad bowed his head for one brief second. When he looked up again, his voice was steady.
“Thank you for telling us, sweetheart.””
Those six words nearly broke me.
Not Why didn't you tell me?
Not How could you let this happen?
Just thank you.
The paramedics checked my blood pressure and listened to the baby's heartbeat. Denise's expression tightened when I told her about the cramps and the medication Eric had been giving me.
“What medication?”” she asked.
“I don't know. He said it was for anxiety.””
“Did your obstetrician prescribe it?””
“I don't think so.””
Dad glanced toward the nightstand.
A small amber bottle stood beside a glass of water. Eric had told me to take one pill every morning and another every evening. He said they would help me sleep and stop my worrying.
I had never seen the prescription before.
Denise picked up the bottle without opening it.
“I'm bringing this to the hospital with us. Don't take any more until a doctor identifies exactly what it is.””
A cold feeling settled in my stomach.
“What if I've hurt my baby?””
“We don't know that you've hurt her,” Denise said firmly.
“Right now, we need to examine you both.””
Dad crouched beside the bed.
“Claire, listen to me. Whatever this medication is, none of this is your fault.””
I nodded, but my thoughts had already returned to Eric's office.
The documents.
The insurance policy.
The papers declaring me mentally unstable.
I grabbed Dad's wrist.
“There are things you need to see.””
“What things?””
“His office. Yesterday, I found a folder in the bottom drawer of his desk.””
Dad leaned closer.
“What was in it?””
“An insurance policy. Two million dollars. My name was on it.””
My mother's tissue slipped from her fingers.
Mason appeared in the doorway.
“What the hell did you just say?””
I flinched.
He immediately softened his voice.
“Sorry, Claire. I'm sorry. Just tell us.””
“I didn't have time to read everything. There were pages about my mental health, too. Documents saying I was unstable and that Eric should get custody of the baby if something happened to me.””
Dad stood.
“Where is the folder now?””
“In the office. I put everything back exactly where I found it.””
A heavy silence filled the room.
Then Dad asked, “Did Eric know you'd seen it?””
“I don't know.””
A voice came from the hallway.
“Seen what?””
Eric stood outside the bedroom, holding a mug of coffee.
He looked from Dad to Mason, then to me.
For a split second, his face revealed something raw and ugly.
Then the familiar smile returned.
“Claire, sweetheart, what have you been telling them?””
I pulled the blanket closer.
Dad stepped between us.
“Stay where you are.””
Eric laughed.
“This is unbelievable. You're all feeding into her paranoia. She found some paperwork she doesn't understand, and now she's accusing me of trying to kill her?””
“I haven't accused you of anything,” I whispered.
“Then stop making things up!””
The shout made me jerk so violently that Denise reached for my hand.
Dad's voice dropped.
“Do not raise your voice at her.””
Eric set his coffee on the dresser.
“Robert, I've been taking care of your daughter while you've been off playing soldier. I've paid the mortgage. I've managed the appointments. I've done everything a husband is supposed to do.””
“Then why did you take her phone?””
“She was calling people at all hours.””
“Why did you take her keys?””
“She kept threatening to leave during arguments.””
“Why did you give her medication she can't identify?””
Eric's face reddened.
“She needs it!””
“Who prescribed it?””
“Her doctor.””
“What doctor?””
Eric hesitated.
It lasted less than a second.
But Dad saw it.
So did I.
Denise quietly told the second paramedic to prepare the stretcher.
Eric noticed.
“Where are you taking her?””
“The hospital,” Denise replied.
“She doesn't need a hospital.””
“That decision isn't yours.””
Eric stepped into the room.
“You're not taking my wife anywhere without my permission.””
Dad moved toward him.
“She's an adult. She can make that decision herself.””
“She isn't competent to make decisions!””
The words struck me with a familiar, poisonous force.
Eric had said them so often that I had begun to hear them in my own thoughts.
Dad turned toward me.
“Claire, do you want to go to the hospital?””
“Yes.””
“Then you're going.””
Eric's face twisted.
He grabbed the stretcher rail as the paramedics brought it into the room.
“You'll regret this,” he told me.
“You have no idea what happens when you turn your family against me.””
Mason pulled his hand off the rail.
“Touch her again, and you'll have a different problem.””
“That's enough,” Dad ordered.
The paramedics transferred me carefully onto the stretcher. As they wheeled me toward the hallway, I caught a glimpse of Eric's phone lying on the dresser.
Its screen lit up.
A message appeared from a contact saved as *Dr. Bennett*.
I couldn't read the entire message, but one line was visible.
Did she take the full dose?
My blood ran cold.
I turned my head toward Dad.
“Dad, look at his phone.””
He followed my gaze.
The screen went dark before he could read the message.
Eric snatched the phone off the dresser and shoved it into his pocket.
“Private business,” he said.
Dad stared at him.
“No,” he replied.
“Not anymore.””
As the paramedics wheeled me downstairs, Eric stayed at the top of the staircase.
He didn't shout again.
He didn't threaten me.
He simply watched, his expression blank, until I reached the front door.
Then he spoke in a voice so soft that I almost didn't hear him.
“Claire, you should have stayed quiet.””
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And when Dad turned back to face him, Eric smiled as if he had just remembered something important.
“By the way, Robert,” he called, “you might want to ask your daughter why she signed those papers herself.””
