The night before I gave birth, I overheard my husband secretly offer the doctor $500,000 to make sure I died during delivery so he could start a new life with his five-month-pregnant mistress. I pretended to be asleep—but by the next day, his plan had completely backfired.

“Why did Marcus meet with him last night?”

“To continue gathering evidence.”

I stared at the detective.

“You’re telling me Marcus was already working with police?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“He contacted an attorney.”

“He had not yet made a formal report.”

I closed my eyes.

So Marcus had been afraid.

Maybe guilty.

Maybe trapped.

Maybe trying to protect himself.

But whatever his reasons, he had waited too long.

If I had drunk the sedative.

If I had not heard Daniel.

If I had walked into delivery believing everyone around me was safe.

I did not know what would have happened.

And I would never know.

That uncertainty was terrifying enough.

Part 5

The hospital discharged Lily and me three days later.

I did not go home.

Laura had already arranged security at one of my grandmother’s properties.

A small lake house forty minutes outside the city.