Chapter 1: The Strike of Betrayal
The sterile smell of bleach and rubbing alcohol replaced the sweet aroma of baby shower cupcakes in seconds. Paramedics wheeled Clara through the double doors of St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital, her hands frantically pressing down on her blood-soaked pink dress. Beside her, her husband Mark held her hand so tightly his knuckles turned ghost-white.
“Stay with me, Clara! Please, just look at me!” Mark pleaded, his voice cracking beneath the weight of panic.
Clara’s vision blurred. Every heartbeat felt like a hammer striking her chest. Just twenty minutes ago, she was opening gifts surrounded by pastel balloons and laughter. Then came Eleanor—Mark’s mother—her eyes blazing with unhinged fury, clutching a heavy iron fireplace poker she had snatched from the mantel. The echo of Eleanor’s screech still rang in Clara’s ears: “Fifty thousand dollars! You think you can keep that from me?!”
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The strike to her abdomen had been cruel and deliberate. As doctors cut through her ruined dress in Trauma Bay 3, Clara squeezed Mark’s hand with the last remaining strength in her fingers.
“Our baby... Mark, save our baby...” she whispered before the heart monitor spiked into a chaotic cadence, and darkness swallowed her whole.
