Chapter 5 - Whispers in the Ward
The smell of antiseptic and the persistent beep of an intravenous drip pulled Clara back to consciousness. The room was dim, illuminated only by the faint blue streetlights filtering through the blinds.
She moved her hands frantically to her abdomen. The swell was still there, round and firm.
"They're fine, Mrs. Mitchell," a soft voice spoke from the corner. Dr. Hayes was adjusting the IV line. "Mild contractions brought on by acute stress and a spike in adrenaline. We administered a tocolytic agent to stop the labor. The twins' heart rates have stabilized."
Clara let out a ragged sob of relief, burying her face into her pillow. The physical terror subsided, leaving behind an exhausting emotional void.
"Where is he?" Clara asked, though part of her dreaded the answer.
"Outside in the corridor," Dr. Hayes replied gently. "He hasn't left the floor. He threatened to buy the hospital when the charge nurse tried to enforce visiting hours, but he respected your request not to enter until you woke up."
Clara closed her eyes. "Let him in."
A moment later, the door creaked open. Ethan entered like a condemned man walking to the scaffold. His crisp charcoal suit was wrinkled, his tie discarded, dark shadows bruising the skin beneath his eyes. He stopped several paces from the bed, hesitant, as if stepping closer would shatter what little remained of her.
"The doctor said they’re safe," he said, his voice cracked with exhaustion.
"They are," Clara said flatly. "No thanks to your family."
Ethan pulled a wooden chair over, sitting stiffly. "Victoria is in federal custody. She broke after two hours of interrogation. Harold promised her a twenty-percent stake in his shell company once they ousted me. She planted the offshore keys on your laptop during the anniversary party last month."
Clara stared at the ceiling tiles. "You believed her so easily, Ethan. That’s what kills me. She didn't need brilliant evidence; she just needed you to doubt me, and you jumped at the chance."
"I was terrified," Ethan admitted, burying his face in his hands. "My father died believing my mother betrayed him. I saw how it destroyed him, how he died bitter and alone. When those photos showed up... I became him. I projected my worst nightmare onto the only person who never lied to me."
"Your trauma isn't an excuse to crucify me," Clara replied, turning her head to face him. Her gaze was steady, cold, and devoid of the warmth he once took for granted.
Before Ethan could answer, the room’s landline phone rang with an urgent series of chimes. Dr. Hayes answered from the nurses' station outside, then entered with a grim expression.
May you like
"Mr. Mitchell, your mother has just landed at the private terminal. And she brought Harold’s attorney with her."
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