Chapter 2
The doctor's voice was gentle when he finally spoke.
But his words hit me like a physical blow.
"The baby appears to be okay," he said.
I closed my eyes.
Relief flooded through me.
But then he continued.
"However... we found something else."
I opened my eyes.
He pointed to the screen.
"Look here."
I looked.
And then I looked again.
Two heartbeats.
Two separate sacs.
"Twins," I whispered.
The doctor nodded.
"And there's something else. Something in your blood work."
He paused.
Chose his words carefully.
"We found traces of a drug called methotrexate in your system."
I didn't recognize the name.
"It's a chemotherapy drug," he explained. "Also used to terminate pregnancies in very early stages. The levels in your blood are low... but consistent. Like someone has been giving you small doses over a period of time."
The room started to spin.
"What?"
"Someone has been trying to make you miscarry," he said quietly. "For months. Possibly longer."
I couldn't breathe.
The attack at the party hadn't been a sudden explosion of anger.
It had been the final, desperate act of someone who'd already been trying to kill my baby for a long time.
And there was only one person who hated me enough to do that.
Only one person who'd had access to my food, my drinks, my home.
Linda.
Ethan had been pacing outside the room.
He came in when he heard my voice.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Is the baby—"
"Babies," I said, cutting him off. "Twins."
His face softened.
But then he saw the doctor's expression.
"What else?"
The doctor told him about the drug.
About what it meant.
Ethan went pale.
"That's impossible," he said. "No one would—"
He stopped.
Because he knew.
He knew who.
He just didn't want to admit it.
"Ethan," I said, my voice breaking. "It was her. It's always been her."
He ran his hands through his hair.
"My mother would never—"
"She just kicked me in the stomach in front of thirty people!" I shouted. "What more proof do you need?"
He flinched.
The police arrived a little while later.
They took my statement.
They took photos of the bruising already forming on my abdomen.
They told me Linda was already in custody.
Assault charges.
But when I told them about the drug, everything changed.
This wasn't just assault anymore.
This was attempted murder.
Ethan sat beside me in the hospital room.
He didn't say anything for a long time.
Then he took my hand.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I didn't see it. I didn't... I didn't want to see it."
I looked at him.
My husband.
The man I loved.
The man who'd let his mother abuse me for years because he was too scared to confront her.
"I need you to be on my side now," I said. "Completely. No more excuses. No more 'she's my mother.' If you can't do that..."
I let the sentence hang.
He squeezed my hand.
May you like
"I'm on your side," he said. "Whatever you need. Whatever it takes."
And for the first time in a long time, I believed him.
