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.

“Don’t pretend you’re offended.”

“Leave.”

“Tomorrow morning.”

The doctor’s voice became colder.

“I said leave.”

There was a long pause.

Then Daniel spoke.

“Think about your family.”

My skin went cold.

That was not persuasion.

That was a threat.

I heard footsteps.

The sitting room door opened.

Closed.

Then silence.

I waited.

Five seconds.

Ten.

Twenty.

Then Dr. Hale entered my room.

I kept my eyes shut.

He stood beside my bed.

I could feel him looking at me.

Then he whispered,

“Mrs. Bennett?”

I did not move.

Another second passed.

Then he left.

The door closed.

I waited again.

Only when I was certain I was alone did I open my eyes.

My whole body was shaking.

I pulled the phone from beneath my pillow.

The recording was still running.

Thirty-two minutes.

I stopped it.

Then I forwarded the file to my attorney.

Laura Kingston.

Next, I uploaded it to my private cloud account.