Chapter 2 - THE BABY’S HEARTBEAT
The ambulance ride lasted eleven minutes.
It felt like eleven years.
Every bump in the road made me tense.
Daniel sat beside me with one hand near the monitor.
“Try to keep breathing slowly.”
“I am trying.”
“You’re doing well.”
“Is the baby’s heart rate okay?”
“So far.”
“So far?”
“We need obstetrics to evaluate you.”
I hated careful medical language.
It meant nobody wanted to promise what they could not guarantee.
Another pain moved across my abdomen.
I grabbed the edge of the stretcher.
Daniel watched the monitor.
“When did that start?”
“After he hit me.”
“Is it tightening or sharp pain?”
“Both.”
He radioed ahead.
When we reached Saint Catherine’s Medical Center, a maternity team was already waiting.
I was pushed through doors.
Lights moved above me.
Faces appeared and disappeared.
Questions came quickly.
My name.
Weeks pregnant.
Allergies.
Medications.
Blood type.
IVF history.
Previous complications.
Then a doctor introduced herself.
“I’m Dr. Elena Ruiz.”
Her voice was calm.
“I’m going to examine you and monitor your baby.”
“Is he okay?”
“I need a little time before I answer that.”
That terrified me.
She placed monitors across my abdomen.
The room filled with the fast rhythm of my baby’s heartbeat.
I closed my eyes.
There he was.
Still fighting.
My little boy.
The child Julian once cried over during our first successful ultrasound.
The same child he had struck through my body an hour earlier.
“How does that sound?”
I asked.
Dr. Ruiz watched the screen.
“Right now, reassuring.”
I started crying again.
Not loudly.
Just enough for tears to disappear into my hair.
Rachel arrived twenty minutes later.
Mara came ten minutes after her.
They waited until the doctor finished examining me.
There was bruising.
Uterine irritability.
No obvious placental separation on the first scan.
But Dr. Ruiz wanted prolonged monitoring.
“You’re staying overnight.”
I nodded.
“Anything else?”
“We’ll repeat labs.”
She looked directly at me.
“And if the contractions increase or the tracing changes, we respond quickly.”
I swallowed.
“Could he come early?”
“It is possible.”
I looked at the ceiling.
Thirty-four weeks.
Six weeks too soon.
My son had survived IVF.
Two early losses.
One failed transfer.
Four years of people asking when we planned to have children.
Years of Beatrice telling me to “relax.”
Years of Arthur joking that perhaps the Vance bloodline would end because Julian chose the wrong woman.
And now Julian himself might have forced our baby into the world early.
Rachel took my hand.
“You are not alone.”
I nodded.
Mara waited near the door.
When the medical staff finally stepped away, she came closer.
“Can we talk?”
“Yes.”
“Officially or unofficially?”
“Officially.”
She took out a small recorder.
“Do you consent to recording?”
“Yes.”
Mara began with the assault.
I told her everything.
Julian arriving with Chloe.
Beatrice’s announcement.
My demand that they leave.
The punch.
The fall.
Arthur’s reaction.
The clapping.
Julian’s words.
“She’s carrying the real heir, you barren trash.”
Mara stopped writing.
“He said that?”
“Yes.”
“You are eight months pregnant.”
“I am aware.”
Rachel muttered.
“He enjoys cruelty more than logic.”
Mara almost smiled.
Then she asked.
“How many witnesses?”
“At least thirty.”
“Any cameras in the room?”
Arthur loved surveillance.
“Four.”
Mara looked up.
“Where?”
I described them.
One facing the front door.
One covering the bar.
One near the staircase.
One small camera above the fireplace.
“Do they record audio?”
“Arthur told us they do.”
Mara immediately sent a message.
“Good.”
I looked at her.
“Did your team get the server?”
“They secured the local system before anyone could alter it.”
I exhaled.
“Thank God.”
Mara studied me.
“Did you know Julian was capable of that?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
I corrected myself.
“I knew he could be cruel.”
“I did not know he would hit me.”
“Had he assaulted you before?”
“No.”
“Threatened you?”
“Not directly.”
“Controlled money?”
“Yes.”
“Tracked your movements?”
“Sometimes.”
“Accessed your phone?”
“I think so.”
Mara’s pen stopped.
“Why?”
“He knew things I had not told him.”
“What things?”
“Appointments.”
“Meetings.”
“Once he knew I had lunch with Rachel even though I never mentioned it.”
Mara looked at Rachel.
Rachel nodded.
“That happened.”
Mara wrote something.
“We may need your devices.”
“You can have them.”
She looked at me carefully.
“Clara, the search uncovered more than we expected.”
My heart sped up.
“At Arthur’s house?”
“Yes.”
“How bad?”
“We are still processing it.”
“Tell me what you can.”
Mara pulled a chair closer.
“We found ledgers in his private office that appear to correspond to the copies you provided.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
“We also found three encrypted drives.”
“Did you open them?”
“Not yet.”
“What else?”
“Documents connecting two shell companies to accounts we did not know about.”
“How much?”
“Too early.”
I watched her face.
“Mara.”
She hesitated.
“Potentially tens of millions.”
Rachel whispered.
“Jesus.”
I was not surprised.
Arthur never stole small.
Small crimes were for people who feared consequences.
Arthur believed laws existed only to separate ordinary people from his world.
Mara continued.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“We found a file with your name.”
Everything inside me tightened.
“My name?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of file?”
“Printed emails.”
“Private investigator reports.”
“Financial information.”
“Medical information.”
My hand went to my belly.
“What medical information?”
“Fertility treatment.”
I stared at her.
“That is impossible.”
“You never gave Arthur access?”
“No.”
“Julian?”
“He knew everything.”
“Could Julian have given it to him?”
I looked away.
The answer hurt.
“Yes.”
Mara continued.
“There are also photographs.”
“Of what?”
“You.”
“Where?”
“Leaving your clinic.”
“Meeting me.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Meeting you?”
Mara nodded.
“One photograph was taken outside the parking garage where we met in January.”
My blood ran cold.
“They knew?”
“We do not know when Arthur received the photograph.”
“If he knew I was working with you, why did he let me stay near the company?”
“That is what concerns me.”
Rachel squeezed my hand.
I stared at Mara.
“Could the raid have been compromised?”
“Possibly.”
“But Arthur looked surprised.”
“Yes.”
“So maybe he suspected something but didn’t know enough.”
“That is my current assessment.”
I thought about the baby shower.
Arthur’s calm.
Beatrice’s performance.
Julian bringing Chloe.
Something about the timing bothered me.
“Why today?”
Mara looked at me.
“What do you mean?”
“Why would Julian bring Chloe today?”
“To humiliate you?”
“That is what it looked like.”
“But they had never been that open before.”
Mara leaned forward.
“You knew about the affair?”
“For two months.”
Rachel looked surprised.
“You did?”
“I needed Julian comfortable.”
Mara nodded.
That had been our agreement.
Do not confront.
Do not change routine.
Do not give Arthur a reason to tighten access.
I looked at Mara.
“Julian knew the shower was at one.”
“Yes.”
“Arthur came early.”
“Yes.”
“Beatrice had the speech ready.”
“Yes.”
“Chloe was already dressed for the event.”
Rachel frowned.
“You think this was planned.”
“I know it was planned.”
Mara asked.
“For what purpose?”
I looked toward the fetal monitor.
“I don’t know.”
My phone buzzed on the table.
Rachel picked it up.
“It’s Julian.”
I did not touch it.
Another message arrived.
Then another.
Rachel looked at the screen.
“He says you need to call him.”
Mara held out her hand.
“May I?”
I nodded.
She read.
CLARA, TELL THEM THIS WAS AN ACCIDENT.
Then another.
MY FATHER THINKS YOU SET HIM UP.
Another.
WE CAN FIX THIS IF YOU STOP NOW.
My stomach turned.
Then a fourth message appeared.
DON’T MAKE ME TELL THEM WHAT YOU DID TO GET PREGNANT.
I stared at the words.
Rachel looked confused.
“What does that mean?”
I knew exactly what he meant.
During our second IVF cycle, we used a genetic screening process Arthur publicly mocked as “designer reproduction.”
Beatrice had called our embryos “laboratory children.”
Julian had defended me then.
Or I thought he had.
Mara asked.
“Does he have anything that could hurt you?”
“Nothing illegal.”
“Anything embarrassing?”
“No.”
“Then why threaten you?”
“Because he thinks infertility is shameful.”
Mara looked disgusted.
My phone rang.
Julian again.
I let it ring.
Then Mara’s own phone buzzed.
She glanced down.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
I asked.
She stood.
“Stay here.”
“Mara.”
She looked at me.
“We found Chloe’s name.”
My pulse jumped.
“Where?”
“In one of the shell-company ledgers.”
Rachel stared.
“Chloe?”
Mara nodded.
“She received payments.”
“How much?”
“We have confirmed eighty-four thousand dollars.”
My mind went blank.
“From Arthur?”
“From a company your documents identified as a Vance Meridian pass-through entity.”
“What were the payments for?”
“We don’t know.”
I thought about Chloe arriving on Julian’s arm.
Her expensive dress.
Her tiny apartment Julian claimed he paid for.
The jewelry.
The travel.
The confidence.
She had always seemed too comfortable around Arthur.
Then another memory surfaced.
Three months earlier, I had walked into Arthur’s office without knocking.
Chloe had been standing beside his desk.
Julian had not been there.
Arthur told me she was delivering something for Julian.
I believed him because I had not yet known about the affair.
Now I understood why Chloe had looked worried when the agents carried out Arthur’s evidence box.
She was not merely Julian’s mistress.
She was on Arthur’s payroll.
May you like
And suddenly the baby shower felt less like an affair becoming public.
It felt like an operation.
