He tied me upside down from the ceiling beam and beat my swollen belly for hours, claiming it would force a son to come out. Blood dripped from my mouth and nose onto the floor while he laughed. The pain became too much and I passed out completely. The doctor reviewed the scans with shaking hands: “The fetus is dead and badly bruised… your spine is also damaged from the suspension.”

The heavy click of handcuffs echoing in the hallway was a sound I never thought I would hear.

"You're making a mistake!" Daniel yelled, the sophisticated veneer completely shattering. "She fell! I brought her here to save her! Ask her!"

Two police officers entered my room. One stayed by the door, a hand resting on his radio, while a female officer approached my bed. Her name tag read Officer Miller. She looked at the bruising on my wrists, the unnatural angle of my spine on the monitors, and the empty, devastating hollow in my eyes.

"Rachel," Officer Miller said softly. "My name is Sarah. You are safe now. He is in custody."

"Did he fight you?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"He tried to," Sarah replied, pulling out a notepad. "He’s currently screaming about a lawsuit in the elevator. But the doctor gave us his statement. That, combined with your injuries, gave us probable cause for an immediate arrest."

My chest tightened, a phantom rope squeezing the breath from my lungs. "He has money. His family has the best lawyers in the city."

"Let them try to explain this away," she said firmly. "I need you to tell me everything, Rachel. From the beginning."

I closed my eyes. Telling the truth meant reliving the nightmare. It meant acknowledging the months of isolation, the deleted emails, the missing keys, and finally, the horrific beam in the utility room.

I took a deep breath, the antiseptic air stinging my nose, and began to speak. I told her about the obsession with having a son. I told her about the ropes.

When I finally opened my eyes, Sarah stopped writing. Her jaw was clenched tight.