Chapter 3 - The ER and the Detective
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The sterile smell of the emergency room was a jarring contrast to the chaos of my dining room. I sat on the edge of the examination bed, my hands resting protectively over my stomach.
The doctor gently lifted the ruined cashmere. The burn was an angry, blistered circle just above the curve of my pregnancy.
Detective Elena Morales stood in the corner of the room. She had the kind of sharp, observant eyes that didn't miss a single twitch of a muscle.
"Your father-in-law did this to you?" Morales asked, her pen hovering over a notepad.
"Yes," I said softly.
"And your husband physically restrained you?"
"Yes."
"Did anyone else in the room attempt to intervene? Call for help?"
I thought of Diane sipping her wine and Brooke clutching her phone. "No. They watched."
The doctor applied a cooling gel to the burn, then adjusted the fetal monitor strap around my waist. A second later, the room filled with the rapid, swooshing sound of my daughter's heartbeat. Fast. Steady. Unbroken.
I squeezed my eyes shut, a single tear escaping. Until that sound echoed through the room, I hadn't realized I was holding my breath.
"Baby looks perfectly fine," the doctor murmured with a reassuring smile. "We’ll keep you here for a bit to monitor, but everything is strong."
My phone buzzed against the plastic tray table. The screen lit up with a text from Vivian, my ruthless, fiercely intelligent attorney. I had called her from the lobby of my building before the ambulance arrived.
Claire, don’t contact Ryan. I’ve found something else. Something involving your money.
Detective Morales noticed the shift in my posture. "Is everything alright, Mrs. Bennett?"
"I don't know yet," I muttered, unlocking my phone.
I dialed Vivian's number. She answered on the first ring.
"Is the baby okay?" Vivian demanded instantly.
"She's fine," I said, glancing at Morales. "I'm with a detective."
"Put me on speaker," Vivian ordered.
May you like
I tapped the screen, placing the phone on the bed. "Go ahead."
"When you called, you asked me to lock down your personal accounts so Ryan couldn't retaliate," Vivian said, her tone devoid of its usual clinical detachment. "I started pulling the financial authorizations your accountant has on file. Claire, we have a massive problem."
