Chapter 2 - The Baby Nobody Wanted
When I woke again, it was morning.
Sunlight spilled across the hospital wall.
For several seconds, I didn’t remember where I was.
Then I felt the pain.
The stitches.
The bruises around my face.
The dryness in my throat.
And the memory of the pillow.
I began to cry.
Not loudly.
Just silently.
Tears slid down my temples as I stared at the ceiling.
A nurse entered a few minutes later.
She stopped when she saw me awake.
“Emma?”
I nodded.
She immediately pressed the call button.
Within minutes, doctors and nurses filled the room.
Everyone asked questions.
Could I breathe?
Was I in pain?
Did I remember what happened?
I answered everything.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Then I asked about my baby.
The nurse smiled.
“He’s healthy.”
My entire body relaxed.
“He’s in the nursery.”
“Can I see him?”
“Not yet. You need to rest.”
“I need to see my son.”
The nurse hesitated.
Then she said something that made my stomach turn cold.
“Your husband already asked to take him home.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“He said your family wanted privacy.”
“My family?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
She checked the chart.
“Your mother-in-law.”
My heart began beating faster.
“My mother-in-law is here?”
“She was earlier.”
I closed my eyes.
Daniel’s mother, Margaret, had never liked me.
Not openly.
She had been too clever for that.
She smiled during family dinners.
She hugged me in front of other people.
Then, whenever we were alone, she whispered things into my ear.
“You’re not really the kind of woman Daniel needs.”
“You should be grateful he chose you.”
“Some women are lucky to marry into money.”
I had always ignored it.
Because Daniel had defended me.
Or at least, I thought he had.
Until the last year.
Over the past twelve months, he had changed.
He became distant.
Protective of his phone.
Angry whenever I asked questions.
Then I became pregnant.
And somehow, things became worse.
The baby was a boy.
Daniel had been excited when we first learned.
But after the genetic testing, something changed.
He stopped touching my stomach.
Stopped talking about names.
Stopped coming to appointments.
When I asked what was wrong, he always said work was stressful.
Now I understood.
He had tried to kill me.
But why?
A nurse entered with my phone.
“Your father asked me to give you this.”
I took it.
There were dozens of missed calls.
My father.
His lawyer.
The hospital.
Then I saw a message from an unknown number.
You need to ask Daniel about the inheritance.
I stared at the screen.
Another message arrived.
Your son is not the problem. You are.
My hands began shaking.
I called my father.
He answered immediately.
“Emma?”
“Dad,” I whispered. “What inheritance?”
Silence.
That silence frightened me more than anything.
“Where is Daniel?”
“Security removed him from the hospital.”
“Why?”
“Because he tried to kill you.”
“I know that.”
“Then why are you asking about inheritance?”
I looked toward the nursery.
“Someone texted me.”
My father said nothing.
“Dad.”
Finally, he exhaled.
“There are things I wanted to tell you after the delivery.”
“What things?”
“Your husband has been investigating your family.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“He has been asking questions about your mother.”
I froze.
My mother had died when I was eight.
At least, that was what I had always been told.
A car accident.
A rainy road.
A tragic death.
I had never questioned it.
But my father’s voice sounded different now.
“Dad,” I said slowly, “what happened to Mom?”
Another silence.
Then he answered.
“Your mother didn’t die in a car accident.”
My entire body went cold.
“Then how did she die?”
My father whispered:
“She was murdered.”
May you like
The room seemed to tilt.
And suddenly, the pillow over my face was no longer the biggest mystery.
