Every day he not only beat me but also poured boiling water on me, roaring, ""I'll boil your belly until a son comes out!""

The revelation that Luke was a medical data broker shifted the atmosphere in the room from a domestic abuse crisis into a high-stakes thriller.

"If he has backdoor access to St. Catherine's servers," Dr. Shah said, her face pale, "he knows we are running toxicology reports on you. He knows Priya is pulling your physical archives."

"Can he delete them?" Evelyn asked, panic rising.

Priya shook her head. "I already pulled the hard copies and locked them in the legal department's physical safe. He can't touch paper."

Dr. Shah walked to the window, peering out through the blinds at the parking lot below. "We have a bigger problem. If Luke knows the net is closing, he isn't going to sit quietly at home. He will try to silence the people who can expose him."

She turned back to us, reaching into the deep pocket of her white doctor’s coat. She pulled out a cheap, plastic prepaid cell phone and set it on my bedside table.

"What is that?" I asked.

"I kept in touch with Helen Mercer," Dr. Shah confessed quietly. "After she was forced out, she went completely off the grid. She lives in a cabin upstate, pays for everything in cash, and uses burner phones. I told her what happened to you, Caroline."

My heart leaped into my throat. "You spoke to her?"

"I texted her the details of your burns and the forged fertility records," Dr. Shah corrected. "She replied ten minutes ago. She wants to speak with you."

Dr. Shah powered on the burner phone. The screen cast a cheap, blue glow in the dim hospital room. She dialed a number from memory, put the phone on speaker, and set it near my pillow.

It rang twice. Then, a sharp, cautious voice answered.